Crooked World
by Imjusthere61944
Summary: AU, Bloody Mary's bullet at the end of episode 3 of TWAU puts Bigby into a deep coma. Awakening in 2014, Bigby finds that Fabletown is now lorded over by none other than the Crooked Man. Now, the former sheriff must adapt, not only to life in the twenty-first century, but also to a war that has just been waiting for the Big Bad Wolf to awaken.
1. Prologue-No Start, No End, Part 1

Crooked World

Chapter 1

Good Morning

'BANG'

Pain…that was the very next thing that registered to Bigby's senses only moments after the gunshot. It was a sharp, burning sensation like he had never felt before, as though someone had stabbed a red hot poker into his lower back. The pain was so intense, that the great wolf lost his balance and fell to the ground with a grunt of pain.

"OH GOD, BIGBY!" Snow White's frantic voice reached his ears, and he tried to look up at her.

Another voice, more garbled, reached his brain, which was now marshaling all its resources to try and combat the pain that was spreading to the rest of his body. First from his lower back to his upper back, and then it began to travel into his arms and legs. Before long, every inch of the Big Bad Wolf felt like it was on fire. It was pain unlike anything he had ever endured, and that was saying something. There was muffled thump, like a car door closing, but just like the voice before, the sound was muffled and seemed distant.

Suddenly, he was brought back to earth by a sharp screeching sound: the sound of an axe being drug across stone. Every metal instrument had its own song, its own vibrations when it made noise. With his enhanced hearing, among other things, Bigby was able to tell which instrument was making such a sound, and it was a familiar one. So much so, that it brought a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The voice returned.

"You know…you wouldn't think silver bullets would work on anything but a pure werewolf, but…as it turns out…that's just not the case."

"Silver!? Jesus, that's why it feels like she shot me with a fireball, GAAAAGH!" a fresh wave of pain interrupted Bigby's thoughts.

Bloody Mary, his attacker, was still rambling on about the 'results' of the silver bullet when her face appeared above him, a cruel, malicious grin on her face and, just as Bigby had guessed, the Woodsman's axe slung over her shoulder.

"…can you argue with these results?" she chuckled as she pushed the helpless werewolf onto his back with her black booted foot.

"Cause I know I can't." the red head aimed the axe square at Bigby's neck, a look on her face that Bigby himself had had before when he was going in for the kill.

Every instinct within him told him to get to his feet, to fight, to say alive, but any movement, even the slightest, brought fresh rounds of pure agony. He could do nothing, but watch in horror as Mary raised the axe for the killing blow. It was over…

"Wait! Stop!" Snow's voice came in like the angel swooping in to hold Abraham's hand from slaying Isaac.

Mary did indeed pause and looked up at Snow in interest. Ignoring the pain, Bigby shifted a little so he could look at Snow as well, although from his vantage point she appeared upside down. The look on the raven haired woman's face was one of deep confliction, but also of fear as she stared down at the mortally injured Bigby.

"Just…take him okay? Take Crane." She said finally, looking back up at Mary with resolve.

Mary relaxed her stance and stared back with a satisfied grin.

"Just stop." Snow continued, her face once again displaying the anxiety she was no doubt feeling from the pit of her stomach, "…Please."

"Hmmmm…yeah, I don't know." Mary mocked deep thought as she placed her chin upon her fist.

Despite the pain, Bigby struggled to try and speak. They had spent hours searching for that sick pervert, Crane. They were not about to lose him now!

"Snow….erghhh..." Bigby's voice was feeble as he struggled to breath, even as each inhale he took felt like he was breathing in sulfur.

"…stay out of this."

There was a lengthy silence, or at least what seemed like one. In his current state, mere seconds felt like hours. He just wished the pain would stop. Mary looked behind her at one of the cars parked at the end of the alley. After a half a minute or so, she looked back at Snow.

"It's your lucky day, kid, the Crooked Man says it's okay with him." She announced.

As soon as these words had left Mary's lips, Snow ran to Bigby's side and sat down near his head.

"Hello Ichabod. Got a stomach ache?" Mary's cruel voice started to sound muffled again as the pain returned in full force in the wake of the adrenaline.

Bigby could only stare up into Snow's eyes which were filled with horror, though whether it was because of his own condition or because of the bargain she had just struck to save him, he was not sure. The eye contact was broken when Snow glanced up and briefly looked at Crane, who was looking down at the pair with a mixture of pity and despair. He approached Mary who, after considering him for a second, turned to look at Snow.

"Oh, and just between us girls…" She said, "…Crane ain't no killer. I mean, look at his face. Couldn't stick a pig if his life depended."

Crane pulled free of her grip on his ear and walked around her before heading toward the waiting limo. Mary watched him before turning back to face her defeated foes with a look of mild disgust.

"Kinda like your boyfriend here. Too pussy to ruin a Tweedle's day." She hissed as she approached Bigby.

Then, in one swift motion, she lifted a water soaked boot and brought it down hard in Bigby's left arm.

'CRUCH!'

If Bigby thought that he could have felt no greater pain than he was already feeling, Mary proved him wrong with flying colors. The fractured bone of his left arm punched right through his skin, leaving a horrid opening with a full view of his arm's insides. Bigby let out a roar of pain, as new, searing, white hot fire traveling at lightning speed up and down his arm, through his shoulder, and seemed to meld with the pain from the bullet wound in his back. It was the perfect pain storm, and was currently running wild all throughout him. It was so intense that he could not understand the next words that Mary spoke. They seemed more garbled and distant than ever. It was all too much, and darkness began to close in around his eyes. The more the darkness covered of his vision, the more the pain within him began to numb, so he welcomed it. The last words he heard before the inky blackness consumed him were Bloody Mary's:

"Long live the queen."

* * *

><p>The darkness was all consuming, nothing escaped it. It was like drifting in a sea of ink.<p>

"_Down to an abyss from a cliff; no start, no end…" _

"_Do something! Anything!"_

"_Miss White, I am doing my best. The silver has leaked into his bloodstream and is producing a unique form of Sepsis. It is probably best he remain comatose, otherwise he may suffer massive organ failure." _

"_My God…"_

The voices were the only thing that sustained him, his need for some form of contact other than himself. They floated in and out of the darkness, like bubbles.

"_How is he today?"_

"_Little better I'm afraid."_

"_How much longer will he stay like this?"_

"_I cannot give you an exact amount of time, Miss White. I have done all I can. His body must process and remove the remaining silver on its own." _

"_How long will that take?"_

"_I do not know…days…months…maybe even years." _

"_Well, keep me informed."_

"_Of course." _

"…_to an abyss; no start, no end…"_

How long had it been? Days, months, year? Time meant nothing in this dark void. However, as he drifted to and fro in the never ending nothingness something began to grow within him; a sense of strength. It was returning to him, he could feel it.

"_Please, Bigby, come back to me…I need you now more than ever…please." _

"Snow?"

"…_no start…no end…"_

Suddenly, there was light…

* * *

><p>The light…<p>

It was so brilliant, that when Bigby's heavy eyelids opened, he quickly shut them again to ward off the pain that the light brought. However, after several minutes, he realized that he could not go on like this forever, so he opened them again. The light was still hard to look into, but not as bad as before. As he squinted into the pure whiteness things began to come into focus, and Bigby realized that he was staring up into a fluorescent light against a bare white ceiling. Following the basic strategy of any animal, the wolf began to test his other senses. First, his sense of smell, which he did so by taking a deep breathe through his nose. The smell of rubbing alcohol was the first thing that he registered, along with that old musty smell that was familiar to him from some of the older buildings in New York. However, it also made him uneasy. A hospital, no matter how old, would not have had such a strong smell of must, which meant he was not in one, despite the smell of rubbing alcohol. So where the hell was he?

To answer this question, he turned to his next sense: touch. He immediately registered that he was lying on something soft, most likely a bed. Bigby, feeling his right hand clenched around something, gave it a squeeze. A soft blanket, yep, definitely a bed. Another thing that would likely have been in a hospital, but it was not. More and more, it seemed a room that had been set up purely for his convalescence. This thought brought back a memory. That night in the alleyway, Bloody Mary…

Bigby glanced over at his left arm. It was no longer broken, and in fact not even a scar could be seen on the now bare arm (well, bare except for the usual dark hair that grew upon it). Intent on getting a better picture of where he was, Bigby attempted to sit up. He managed to do so, but with great difficulty. His body felt stiff as an old board. With a groan, he managed into a seated position and looked around him. More details of the room met his eyes. It was bare space, accepting for the bed he now occupied, a single chair next to the bed off to his left, and an IV with a drip line that was connected to his right wrist. Reaching over with his left (which revealed how much more stiff his left arm was than the rest of his body, likely due to the fracture he had suffered) Bigby pulled the IV out of him and let the tube fall the floor where the liquid continued to drip out of it.

The only source of light in the room came from the florescent light that had blinded him upon his awakening. Upon further inspection of the room's four walls, Bigby noted that one of the them, the one to his right, had a window in it, but the window had been covered over by a large piece of plywood which had been nailed to the frame.

"Someone trying to keep light out?" the wolf wondered.

"Or trying to keep something hidden." A voice within him suggested.

"Was that something me?"

It was possible, but why? A million questions were swirling about in his mind, which still felt a little groggy. Suddenly, his until-now-unused sense, his hearing, picked up on something faint. It was a muffled voice, deep in pitch so it obviously belonged to a man, and it was coming from the other side of the single white door across the room from him. Curiosity and his thirst for answers drove Bigby to throw the thin, white blanket off of him. It was revealed that he was nearly naked, save for a garment that, most annoyingly, reminded him of a diaper which was covering his privy parts. Still, ignoring this fact, he endeavored to leave the bed and stand upon his feet. This took several tries. His legs felt even stiffer when he attempted to stand. Still he gritted his teeth as his feet touched the cold, wooden floor and placed weight upon his tender leg muscles.

"C'mon damn it, you've been through worse. Remember when that Woodsman cut you open? Or when Mary shot you? You can take this!" he urged himself.

Even with the pep talk, it took him two tries to lift the rest of himself off the bed. The first time he sat back down on the edge of the bed to catch his breath. His second try was more successful, and despite some brief swaying which caused him to grab the bed to steady himself, he managed to stay on his own two feet. Then came the next challenge: walking. His legs felt like they had lead bars strapped to them as Bigby shuffled across the floor. Every joint in his legs, from his knees to his toes, made popping noises. His leg muscles hurt a little, and he was soon out of breath by the time he reached the door to the room. While taking the time to take some deep breaths, Bigby placed his ear against the door's surface. The muffled voice continued, and now he could just barely make out some words.

"…I did not hear….see the flash….down to an abyss…"

Stepping back, Bigby reached down and turned the brass handle, releasing him from the room that had been his home for who knows how long. There to greet him was glorious sunlight, so much brighter than the light of his room that Bigby squinted against it. As his eyes adjusted, he was granted a view of the room he had entered. This one was larger, and had a lot more furniture. A desk with a reading lamp and covered in books saw in front of a large bookshelf.

"Bigby?" a voice caused the wolf to look to his left.

"Swineheart?"

The good doctor was seated in a comfy chair that gave him a perfect view out of a large window. Through said window Bigby could see the window spotted, grey wall of one of the many skyscrapers that New York was formed from.

For a moment Swineheart seemed to shocked to say or do anything as he just stared at Bigby. Eventually, he stood up from his chair and approached his patient, looking him over dutifully.

"Good morning...you look well, considering…and you are on your feet already? Incredible, others in your condition would have required years of physiotherapy. Perhaps it is an attribute of being a Fable…or perhaps it's just you are you, Bigby."

Swineheart's words only added to the latter's confusion.

"What are you talking about, doc?"

"You've been in that bed a long time, Bigby…you have no idea." Swineheart's voice descended to a whisper, and he walked slowly over to his desk, which he sat down behind, leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh.

This gave Bigby a chance to really look over the former army surgeon. He looked like he had aged forty years. His face seemed more wrinkled and ashen than he remembered, and the edges of his hair were starting to grey. A dark five o'clock shadow covered the doctor's chin, with the hairs on his chin matching the grey of the hairs on his head. His eyes were darkly underlined. Bigby, if only from experience, guessed that he had not slept well in days.

"What happened, doc?" Bigby inquired, approaching the desk. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

"Where's Snow?"

At his question, a pained look came over Swineheart's eyes and he broke eye contact to look down at his desk.

"Bigby, I…I'm so sorry…" his voice was so quiet that even with his advanced hearing, Bigby barely heard him.

"What do you mean, you're 'sorry'? What the hell happened? Where is Snow White?!" something in the sheriff's gut told him that something was horribly wrong. What had happened to Snow?

"I promised her…I promised her…"

"Where is she, Swineheart!?"

"I PROMISED HER!" the doctor shouted at the top of his lungs, looking back up at Bigby with bulging eyes. He looked almost mad.

Bigby stared into those eyes, so filled with fear, pain, and exhaustion. This was not the Swineheart he remembered, the confident, cool surgeon who had patched him up more times than the Fabletown's protector cared to remember, was gone. Whoever had replaced him was a mere shell of the man.

"She made me promise her…no matter what, I'd watch over you…until you came back…she wanted you to come back. I did things…you could never imagine. I did whatever I had to so they would not come looking…I had to keep you safe. Now, here you are…it's your turn…my part in the story is over." Swineheart continued with his voice calm once more.

"Doc, you're not making any sense. What...happened...where's Snow?" Bigby was growing desperate. He needed answers, coherent ones, and his physician's ramblings were only adding to his concern.

Swineheart just shook his head and covered his face with his hands.

"You don't…you've been gone so long…the world has changed Bigby, and not for the better…Snow…she wanted to fix things. She wanted you to fix things."

Bigby's patience was at its end. He slammed his fist on the desk.

"Swineheart, I'm gonna ask this one last time: WHERE IS SHE!?"

"I CAN'T!" Swineheart looked into Bigby's eyes, his whole body shaking violently.

"I can't give you the answers you seek. You have to find them yourself. I have some clothes for you in the other room…" he gestured toward a door off to the right of the desk as he spoke, "…and some money. You'll need it."

Bigby glanced own at his still exposed body.

"Alright…" he said, "…I'm gonna go get dressed, and when I come back in here, I want _some _answers, Swineheart!"

The wolf left the desk and entered into the room. Inside was another bed, but this one was made and undisturbed. Folded up on the bed was a pair of blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a pair of white underwear with a pair of matching colored socks, and pair of old, brown shoes. Just above the line of clothing was a thick roll of dollar bills held together by a rubber band. The bed, the clothing, and even the money were covered in a layer of dust, indication that they had not moved in some time.

"Jesus, how long has he had all this ready for me? How long was I out?" Bigby wondered.

He shook his head, however. He could ask Swineheart after he had dressed. Slipping into the clothes, which fit perfectly (no surprise, considering Swineheart likely had his measurements) Big had just slipped the money into his pocket when:

'BANG'

A gunshot echoed through the room, causing Bigby to jump a little. Running back out into the main room, he was greeted by a morbid sight. Dr. Swineheart was leaning back in his chair, smoke and blood pouring out a hole in the center of his forehead, and a smoking handgun clutched in his hand.

"SHIT!" Bigby swore as he approached the body of his former doctor and, did her dare say 'friend'?

Swineheart's now lifeless eyes stared ahead, unseeing. Out of respect, Bigby reached out and closed them. Looking down, the Fable noticed a piece of paper folded up on the desk with the words: "For Bigby" written on it. Picking up the paper and unfolding it, he read its contents which went as follows:

_Bigby, _

_If you are reading this, I am dead. I made a decision to do this a long time ago. A doctor's oath says that he must 'help or, at least, do no harm,' but I have failed in this regard. Please, rest easy knowing that you were the last true patient of mine. One I healed, instead of harming. I know you are confused, and want answers. Fabletown is a different place now, as is the world. You must go and see it yourself, for I do not have the strength to describe it, or my place in it. With that, I leave you with this piece of advice: Snow White believed in you, as do I. She insisted you be kept safe for a purpose, and only you can decide what that is. I wish you the best of luck, and apologize for leaving you in such a manner. _

_Fare thee well, _

_Doctor Swineheart _

_P.S. Look at the planner on my desk, it will start you on your journey._

Bigby read over the suicide note, and then read it a second time. What on earth was going on? The world has changed? The last patient the good doctor had not harmed? None of it made sense. Seeing the postscript, Bigby glanced down at a large calendar with several dates written in the different squares for the different days. One of these squares was circled: the eighteenth…that must have been today's date. Looking up at the top of the calendar, Bigby's heart stopped briefly and his mouth fell open.

"No…" he whispered.

The words read: "July, 2014."

* * *

><p><em>Good morning twenty-first century! I was inspired to do this story after listening to Fallout Boy's new song <em>Centuries_. Let me know what you think. I personally liked the idea, and am looking forward to working with it. Wish me luck, and Bigby as well...he's gonna need it. Also, for anyone who might be confused, _The Wolf Among Us _is set in 1986 so...yeah...do the math if you wanna know how long Bigby was out, lol. Cheers. _


	2. Prologue-No Start, No End, Part 2

_Before we begin the next chapter, a shout out to you reviewers eh? :)_

_ReadALLTheBooks: I Believe_ Animals _is by Maroon5, and yes, I can see where you are coming from on that. If I had to pick them, I would say the two songs that inspired this story would be _Centuries _and _Blame _by Calvin Harris. Glad you've been liking the story so far. Thanks for the review. :)_

_FineChyna: Thank you, I thought it was a unique idea also. I enjoyed your own series with the "Mundy of Fabletown" so I'm glad you're liking my own story. Seeing your review actually made me wonder where Madison would be in all this (I guess she's be in her thirties by the time this story took place, but then she wouldn't know about the Fables cause the showdown at Shepherd Metal doesn't happen.) Swineheart's death was a harsh, but he's done some pretty horrific things...you'll see. As for Snow...well...no spoilers, lol. Thanks for the review. :)_

_Guest: Oh dear, well I hope you get that sorted out. I'm glad you are liking the story though. Thanks for the review. :)_

_Riverfang12: Lol, always nice to see enthusiasm for a story. I'm glad you're liking it. Thanks for the review. :) _

_And now, on with the show..._

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

New York, 2014

Twenty-eight years...

It was a realization that Bigby could not fully wrap his mind around. Surely the calendar was off. No, Swineheart was meticulous about his schedule; he prided himself on having never missed an appointment, or even been late to one. The year was 2014. It was like something out of a bad novel, a man waking up out of a coma after nearly three decades. This was no novel, though. This was real. Twenty-eight years…

In retrospect it really was not a huge loss, considering the fact that Fables lived a long, long time, and that Bigby himself was centuries old. Twenty-eight years seemed like barely a drop in the bucket. That was not his main concern, however. What concerned him most was what Swineheart had said: "the world has changed…and not for the better."

Living for hundreds of years had taught Bigby, if nothing else, one thing: that change could come very quickly. Remembering how much things had changed just during the 50s and 60s, the thought that he had missed nearly three decades sent a shiver down Bigby's spine. Who knew what the world was like now. The wolf spent a moment trying to remember what was trending twenty-eight years ago, if only to try and predict what might be big now. There was not a whole lot he remembered. Bigby had not tended to pay much attention to the Mundy world. It did not interest him, nor require his attention the same way his job did. With this handicap, it was hard to imagine what the world would be like now. So instead, as he placed the doctor's suicide not back on the desk, he tried to imagine what Fabletown was like now. As it turned out, that was even more difficult. Shaking his head, Bigby realized that he was just going to have to do what Swineheart had said: go see for himself. In doing so, he would kill two birds with one stone. Swineheart's words had increased Bigby's anxiety about Snow.

"He keeps referring to her in a past tense…what if she's…?"

No, he could not think like that. There was no solid evidence that anything had happened to Snow, but that did not banish that familiar feeling in his gut that always told him when something was very wrong. The only place Bigby could think of where he could find the answers he sought was the Business Office. So he resolved to go to the Woodlands. It would give him a chance to see the city as well. Besides, it would not be wise to hang around. Some Mundy was likely to have heard the gunshot, and probably called the police. The last thing Bigby wanted was to have to spend a long session in the interrogation room with the NYPD.

After some searching around, he found the bathroom and proceeded to give himself a glance over in the mirror. Swineheart had evidently tried to keep his patient well groomed. His hair was a little longer than it used to be, but not by a whole lot, and it more or less held its old shape. His beard had been allowed to grow, though it was not very long, so he assumed Swineheart had shaved him (not all that long ago, considering how fast his facial hair grew). Deciding that he more or less looked presentable, Bigby left the bathroom. However, before leaving the apartment, he had a pang of conscience while looking over Swineheart's body one last time. The police would likely take him away, even though it was usually Fabletown policy to not allow the Mundies to recover the body of a Fable. There was little he could do, however, so after a minute's hesitation, Bigby quickly left. He would inform someone at the Business Office when he got there and they would take care of it.

The apartment building mirrored the same ones Bigby had been in during his career, and at first the differences of the new century seemed almost nonexistent. This quickly changed as soon as he stepped outside. The very first thing to catch Bigby's attention was an odd looking car parked on the street just outside the building. The thing was so compact; it looked more like a glorified golfing cart. In fact, Bigby was almost certain at first that it was a golfing car, or at least a colored cube with wheels.

"What's with you?" an annoyed voice shook Bigby out of his staring, and he looked over to see an angry looking man in a business suit.

"What, you never seen a Smart Car before?" the man growled as pushed past the Fable and got into the car.

The car started with a small rev that Bigby heard only on account of his enhanced hearing, and when the thing drove off, it was listening to a mouse run across a kitchen floor. The engine noise was almost nonexistent. He doubted that a Mundy would have been able to hear anything at all.

"Smart Car? Right….that thing looks like a stiff breeze would blow it right off the road." Bigby muttered, shaking his head before heading off down the street.

The first thing he needed to do was get a sense of direction. As soon as he reached an intersection, Bigby made a note of the street sign that indicated he was on West Fourteenth Street.

"Excuse me, do you know how to get from Bullfinch Street from here?" Bigby inquired of a chubby man who was waiting at a bus stop.

"How should I know? You got a phone? Just Google it." The man replied curtly before going back to tapping on a little, grey rectangular block in his hand.

"Google?" Bigby wasn't sure what it meant. In fact, to be frank, it sounded like something dirty.

Deciding that further inquiry would only draw attention to himself, Bigby continued on. However, he was still trying to wrap his mind around it all. The cars that passed by on the street all looked so different, although there were a few models he recognized they were few and far between. He was so busy taking in the new sights that he failed to see where he was going and…

'WHAM'

Bigby smacked right into a young girl who could not have been more than seventeen. The girl looked up at him angrily after regaining her balance.

"Ugh, OMG, rude!" she said indignantly.

"Uhhhhhh…." Bigby just stared with an eyebrow raised, unable to say a word.

'OMG?' he wondered.

"Get out of the way!" the girl demanded before pushing past the larger man and continuing down the street.

She had one of those strange, rectangular devices pressed up to her ear and was speaking to it.

"Yeah, some jerk just totally ran into me. IKR!?" she said in a very diva like voice.

"Portable phones…" it clicked, this sight combined with what the man had asked him earlier brought back a memory.

Bigby had seen a Mundy with a portable phone back in '86. However, the thing had been huge and had to be carried around in a bag. These portable phones were a lot smaller. Were all the Mundies carrying these now? Bigby shook his head and gave a sigh.

"I need a cigarette." He realized, and he soon located a street side convenience store.

Inside the counter was manned by an older looking gentleman with balding grey hair.

"Can I get a pack of Huff n Puffs, please?" Bigby requested as he dug into his pocket to remove one of the bills from his wad of money.

"Huff n what?" the man looked at him with a confused expression.

"Huff n Puffs, you know, the cigarettes?" Bigby reiterated, but the man's reaction likely meant that…

"Oh yeah, I remember that brand…pretty shitty stuff. They went out of business years ago, fella, no one sells 'em anymore." The man confirmed Bigby's suspicions.

"Great…give me a pack of Marlboros then." Bigby sighed, gesturing toward the rows of green packs on the shelf behind the man, "And a lighter too."

The man retrieved both objects and placed them on the counter before ringing up the purchase.

"$18.63!" he announced.

Bigby was stunned.

"How much?" he said with indignation.

"$18.63, pal." The man repeated, a little more forcefully and with an annoyed look.

Bigby understood the concept of inflation. He had seen a pack of cigarettes go from forty-five cents to a dollar in a few short decades. Still, the price caught him a little off guard. After recovering, he removed a twenty from his roll and handed it to the man.

"Keep the change." He muttered, grabbing the cigarettes and lighter.

"Yeah…" the man behind the counter rolled his eyes as he opened the register.

Bigby headed outside so as to avoid a scene. The man's attitude was really starting to annoy him.

"Typical New Yorkers, some things never change…" he thought.

Once on the street, he opened the pack of Marlboros and, following what he had come to regard as his 'trademark way' of doing it, he gently bumped the pack on his arm, causing a single cigarette to pop forward. Bigby wrapped his lips around the small tube of tobacco and pulled it free from its home before placing the pack in his pocket and lighting his first smoke in nearly three decades. His first intake of smoke tasted like heaven, but only for a moment. It was no Huff n Puff that was for sure. People always ragged on the brand, but Bigby had found the harsh, bitter taste of a Huff n Puff rather nice. Perhaps it was because it was a cigarette that matched his nature. These Marlboro's were a little too mild for his taste. Still, he held the first draw in his lungs for a good thirty seconds before dispelling a cloud of smoke from his nostrils in a long sigh. For a time he just stood outside the store smoking his cigarette and taking in the sights.

To be perfectly honest, aside from the cars and the way the people were dressed, little else had really changed about the city. It was still the maze of steel and concrete it had always been. Graffiti was still spattered upon back alley walls, the cars were still revving and honking (it seemed not everyone drove a 'Smart Car'), and the air still smelled like shit. New York was still New York, but one thing had changed: the tempo. Closing his eyes, Bigby focused on his hearing. A barrage of sound met him: cars honking and revving (both the loud regular ones, and silent Smart ones) but that had always been a familiar sound. Now, added to it was a new cornucopia of sounds. People talking and laughing, that had always been there, but it seemed to have increased. He supposed it figured, everyone had a phone now. Then there were the mixtures of other strange noise, a steady beeping noise, the sounds of many different kinds of music, and many other noises. The amount of things he could hear seemed to have doubled…no…tripled.

A loud car horn honking brought Bigby out of his listening, and his glanced over to see an unoccupied cab that was honking its horn the car it was behind (the car apparently driving too slow for the driver's taste) approaching. Seeing a chance to spare himself a walk and find the Business Office, Bigby threw away what remained of the cigarette in his hand, which had burned down quite a ways during his listening session, and flagged down the taxi.

"3174, Bullfinch Street, please." Bigby requested his destination as he entered.

The cabbie said little after a brief 'yes sir' so Bigby passed the time looking out of the window at the buildings passing by. It also gave him time to think. New York had changed, he supposed. It didn't seem like it, but then he had only gotten a surface taste of things. It was not the changes in New York that bothered Bigby the most, but with Fabletown. He remembered Swineheart's words all too well: "Fabletown has changed, and not for the better."

What did that mean? That something had gone wrong? It was extremely frustrating, all this guessing and speculation. One thing remained certain to him, however. He had to find Snow and make sure she was alright, that above all. Once he was satisfied on her safety, he would be able to focus on other things, and there was plenty to be thinking about. Was he still Sheriff of Fabletown? Probably not, a comatose sheriff was of use to no one. So who had replaced him? What would be his job now? Had someone taken his apartment in the Woodlands? Probably Colin if he had managed to convince Snow not to send him to The Farm. There would likely be a lot of things he would have to talk to Mayor Cole about. Bigby was so deeply engrossed in his wonderings that he did not notice they had reached Bullfinch Street.

This was announced by the taxi pulling over to the curb and coming to a sudden halt.

"3174, Bullfinch!" the driver barked.

Bigby looked out the window and his eyes grew wide.

"No…you sure this is the place."

"Yes sir."

Bigby got out of the taxi, his eyes never leaving what was before him. He was so distracted that he failed to notice that he had handed the cabbie a hundred dollar bill. Needless to say, the man drove off a happy camper. Bigby, for his part, could only stare ahead.

"Oh my God…what…how…?" he mind tried to process what he was seeing.

The great iron gate stood before him, a lonely vigil that it had been carrying on since before Bigby had even come to New York. Next to the gate was the old metal plaque. Now, however, it was covered in dirt and grime. Bigby reached over and crushed some of the grime away, revealing the old weathered words: "Woodlands Luxury Apartments."

"I never thought the name could become even less appropriate." He thought, before looking back at the old building through the iron fence.

The Woodlands Apartment Building was now a burnt out shell. Indeed, only the first three stories still remained. The wall was burned and charred, obviously from a fire, and the rest had been weathered away by exposure to the elements. A red and white sign on the front gate read: "Condemned by order of the City of New York. No Trespassing!"

Ignoring the sign, Bigby attempted to push past the gate, but found it was chained shut. With a grunt, he grasped the chain in both hands and pulled. He managed to break it, but only after putting in a lot more energy then he felt he would have had to before.

"Twenty-eight years lying in a bed…you're out of shape." He told himself. That was another thing he was going to have to work on.

With his way clear, Bigby entered the gate. The grass was still there, but now it was overgrown and dead in some places. Many of the trees and bushes were now dead, burnt out scraggly things. It was like walking through a war zone. As he approached the stairs, Bigby glanced down at the spot on the steps where he had found Faith's head. It felt like it had been only yesterday, but he realized that it was now half a Mundy's lifetime ago. What had happened with that case? Had Snow gotten Crane back? Had she found the killer (if it wasn't Crane)?

"Another problem for another time." He told himself as he climbed the steps to the pair of doors. One of the doors was hanging lopsidedly off its hinges. On the other door was another sign that read the same thing as the one on the gate.

"The Witching Well is in the basement. What about that? Did the Mundy's find it? Did they have to scupper the building? Why does it look like it was burned? Jesus, was Snow in there?!" anxiety began to fill the wolf's chest.

Deciding that he might find some answers within the ruins, Bigby started toward the doors.

"Oi!" a shout caused him to stop and look back.

A man, a short, portly fellow in a green turtle neck sweater, brown slacks, and a brown golf cap was standing at the gate looking rather angry.

"You're not allowed in there, can't you read!? No trespassing!" The man spoke with a think British accent, and his upper lip was so fat that, combined with the rest of his physical features, he looked almost like a…a…

"Toad?" Bigby inquired, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

The man was taken aback by this and he squinted at Bigby. Suddenly, recognition dawned on his face, which quickly changed to a look of stupefied surprise.

"B…Bigby?" he gasped, walking toward the former sheriff.

"Is that you?"

"Toad…" Bigby said, giving the Fable a quick up and down glance before smiling a small smile.

"…I see you got your glamour."

* * *

><p><em>At last, a familiar face...don't worry kids, answers are coming soon. In the meantime, to any of you artists out there, I think that a drawing of Bigby standing outside the burned and ruined Woodland apartment building would make an awesome cover image for the story. I'd really like to draw it myself, but unfortunately my sister inherited all the talent for drawing, but at least I got the lion's share of the writing, right? ;) Anyways, if anyone wants to give it a go, let me know. Cheers. <em>


	3. Prologue-No Start, No End, Part 3

_Once again, a shout out to your reviewers before we begin. _

Riverfang12: Well, you'll know soon enough. Thanks for the review :).

FineChyna: Lol, yes I have read your stories, and I did notice the nod you gave me in your latest chapter. Thanks for that :). Life in the twenty-first century is something Bigby's just gonna have to get used to now. Lol, after all, all the Mundies speak in code now (LOl, YOLO, OMG, ect.). Thanks for the review :).

ReadALLTheBooks: That's alright, I'm no good at drawing period so you've got a leg up on me anyway, lol. As for Collin's fate...well, like I told FineChyna last chapter, no spoilers, lol. Thanks for the Review :).

And now, chapter 3...

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

In which Toad tells all

Bigby stared out of the window at the ruined Woodlands building across the street. Toad's apartment had a perfect view of the site, thus explaining how he had spotted him. He was still looking when Toad returned from the squalid kitchen with two mugs of piping hot cups of tea and a bottle of whisky on a platter.

"Whisky?" Toad inquired, holding up the bottle.

"No thanks" Said Bigby without turning around.

Toad shrugged before opening the bottle and pouring a modest amount of the liquor into his own cup.

"Well, I must say, you look damn good for a dead man…er wolf…uhhh…well…y…y… you know…" Toad stumbled over his words as he sat down in a large comfy chair and took a sip of his spiked coffee.

"Who said I was dead?" Bigby demanded, finally turning to look at him.

"Well…no one really…it's just sorta been assumed, you know. I mean, no one's heard from you in years, mate." Toad fidgeted uncomfortably as his spoke.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Bigby contemplated what his first question should be. He had plenty to choose from, that was for sure. However, before he could make a decision, Toad continued.

"Speakin' of which, where 'ave been, Bigby?"

"Sleeping…" the wolf muttered, still engrossed in his own thoughts.

"For thirty years? That's one hell of a kip, mate."

"I was…healing…"

"Yeah, Snow told us about your gettin' popped n' all. Guess that's why everyone assumed…"

"Snow?!" Bigby snapped suddenly, causing the latter to jump in surprise.

Toad's words had brought the most important question that had been hanging on his mind all morning. Indeed, he felt stupid for not having asked it sooner.

"Where is Snow? Is she alright?"

That same look…that exact same look came over Swineheart's face when Bigby had brought up Snow, now came over Toad's. His eyes held a look of pity, but also anxiety, as if he feared even telling what he knew to his guest. Bigby's gut was screaming at him: 'you know the truth! You know what it means, what they've all been afraid to tell you! You know it!'

"Well!?" Bigby shouted, unable to control himself anymore.

He was sick of it! He was sick of them all dodging the question, treating him like a child who could not understand what death was. He had killed his fair share of people, he knew what it was.

"Is she dead?" he decided to be direct about it, stepping closer so he was hovering over Toad.

Toad, for his part, had retreated, and now was pressing himself so deep into the chair, that it seemed in danger of breaking. He was unable, or perhaps unwilling to meet Bigby's eyes, and instead was staring at his lap. Had there been a large lamp available, it would have looked like an interrogation from one of those corny police films. In a way, it was…

"I-I'm sorry, Bigby…" was all Toad could mutter.

That was it…that was all the conformation he needed. Snow was dead…Jesus Christ, Snow was dead. Some part of him had always known, ever since he had spoken to Swineheart, but now…to hear it confirmed sent fresh waves of pain shooting through his chest. What made it feel strangest was that the feeling had some strange aura of déjà vu about it. It was just like when he had found what was believed at the time to be Snow's head on the steps of the Woodlands. This time it was real, though. She was gone, Snow White was gone. Bigby stumbled back and returned to the window. With a small gasp he placed both hands on either side of the frame and stared down at the window sill, struggling with all his might to try and come to terms with what he had just been told. It was not easy. The pain that had started in his chest was intensifying as he thought of all the times he had seen Snow…how beautiful she had looked when he had first seen her in those chains all those years ago, how she had seemed one of the few people who understood him, how it had been her who had come and offered him a chance for redemption, for rebirth as the Sheriff of Fabletown, how she had been the first to forgive him for all his trespasses of the past, and, perhaps most of all, how she had been the first to ever look into his eyes without fear, but with trust. He owed her so much, and cared for her more than any other being in his entire life. Hell, he had **loved** her, and now the intense regret of never having gotten to say so many things that he had wanted to, that he had adored her, only added to the pain. It was too late now. She was gone…he would never get to tell her all those things.

Toad, for his part, remained quiet, although whether it was out of respect or fear Bigby did not know, nor really care. Instead, he focused on a new feeling that was growing inside of him. The tears stopped dripping as the pain was slowly over taken by a new emotion…a familiar emotion: blind rage. There was blood to pay.

"How?" he growled, his voice dripping with the anger that was consuming his heart.

"What?"

"How did she die?"

Toad was watching Bigby's back carefully, unsure as to what the wolf might do. He could see that cracks that were beginning to form in the wall near where Bigby was grasping the window frame.

"She…she died in the fire." Toad replied, his voice shaking a little, he had never seen Bigby this angry. Just the mere aura that was emanated from the Big Bad Wolf was enough to send shivers running down the Fable's back.

Bigby grimaced a little at this news. She had burned to death? It couldn't have even been a quick and clean death could it? No, it had had to be painful and slow.

"The fire that burned down the Woodlands?" he requested clarification, his voice shaking with suppressed fury.

"Yeah."

"And who started the fire?"

"Well…th-that's a long s-story, mate." Toad's voice was shrinking as he became more and more terrified.

"RAAAGH!" with animalistic growl, Bigby whirled around, strode over, and slammed his hands, which were now sporting a pair of sharp claws, into the arms of the chair on either side of the smaller Fable.

Toad let out a cry of terror and stared up into Bigby's eyes, which were glowing like a pair of car lights, a bright, angry yellow. His teeth had elongated and thick hair had begun to grown on his face and arms. Toad shrank back as far into the chair as he could go, staring up at the angry wolf-man that hovered over him like he was some cornered prey.

"I'm…listening…" Bigby's voice was low and menacing, and he dug his claws into the chair with each word.

"I…I…Bigby, will you stop looking at me like that! Bloody 'Ell!" Toad insisted, some of his courage returning.

Bigby growled a little, and but released the chair and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off of the nearby coffee table. Without even bothering to take the cap off, Bigby simply broke the bottles neck and poured the entire contents down his throat.

"No, please, guzzle down all me booze, who cares…" Toad thought with annoyance, but he did not dare say anything.

As soon as the last drop was down his throat, Bigby threw the empty bottle to the floor and glanced down at his arms. They looked normal now (or, at least, as they should have when he was human) and his claws were gone.

"Alright, Toad, now TALK." Bigby reiterated, turning to face the glamoured amphibian once again.

"Right, well…were to begin then? I guess you might have guessed that she took over after the 'ole flap with Crane."

"Yeah, so what the hell happened then? Why is the Woodlands a ruin?"

"Well, after she took over and you…uhhh…started your nap, things got worse. Economy took a turn and a lot of Fables found themselves out of work, well, more than before anyway. Glamours, hell, they got even more expensive by the day. You'd be amazed mate. I could barely afford one for meself, let alone me boy, and she wanted to send me to the fuckin' Farm, can you believe that?!" Toad glanced up a Bigby and saw that his eyes were glowing yellow once again and he was gritting his teeth.

"B-b-but don't get me wrong now. She was trying her best, I truly think she was." Toad back peddled, throwing up his hands.

"Things were tight at the belt level, if you know what I mean. Even Bluebeard started havin' money troubles. Everythin' was goin' bad really. Fables were out a work, glamours were becoming more 'n more expensive, the Business Office started having to support a lot more of us. Snow, the poor girl, she had more problems than I think anyone could have handled. That's when the Crooked Man started makin' his speeches…"

"The Crooked Man?" the name caused Bigby's head to snap up from its previous position of looking down at the floor while he absorbed what Toad told him.

"Yeah, he started popping up all over New York, acting like he was God's gift to Fable Town. Started givin' all these speeches at places like the Trip Trap about how Miss White and the Woodlands wasn't doin' shit for the rest of us, how he understood what it was like to be down n' out, that he wanted to help out the community, and all that sort of stuff."

"And people supported him?" Bigby's accusing eyes were boring into Toads.

"Look mate, he got me my glamours for right cheap, 'e did. Saved me 'n me boy from The Farm too. 'E did a lot of things like that, so yeah, he 'ad a fair share of supporters before too long. Some still stayed leery about 'im, though. 'E 'ad a reputation that was 'ard to shake, if you know what I mean? Then, the winter of '91 'it and things just went to 'ell in a 'and basket."

"What happened?"

"Well Bluebeard showed up 'n said he's gonna have to cut back expenses. It really hurt the Business Office's treasury, I know that much. Suddenly, everyone was broke. The Crooked Man, he took full advantage of the situation. He started all these really stirring speeches about how Snow had failed Fable Town, and how her 'policies weren't allowing growth' and that sort of nonsense. I didn't really pay too much attention to the few speeches I heard, to be honest. As long as he was giving me my glamours on the cheap, I was happy. Others weren't so easily bought though…"

"Who were his supporters?" Bigby was back to having a look of deep concentration on his face.

"Hell, practically everyone by '91."

"Well who were his _main _supporters than, Toad."

"Jesus Christ Bigby, I don't know! It was years ago."

"Think!"

"Eerrgh, Jesus…uhhh…there was the Tweedles. I remember that, cause that one had come 'round and wrecked me apartment. And there was Blood Mary, she was backing him. Others too, like Georgie and the young lad with the gimpy leg."

"Is he the one who burnt down the Woodlands?"

"Well, yes and no…"

"What the hell does that mean?" Bigby's temper was flaring again.

"One night in December of '91, the Crooked Man held one of his usual get togethers, but this one was right outside the gate to the Woodlands. He gave this long speech with the usual trimmings, how the Business Office had failed Fable Town, how comfortable Miss White and Mayor Cole were in their 'ivory tower', and so on…Well, eventually Miss White came out and tried to defend herself and the Business Office. I didn't catch a lot of what she said to be honest, but it seems she didn't do a very good job of it, because it just got the crowd more riled. Eventually she went back into the Woodlands, and some of the Fables like Gren started calling for her removal and even the destruction of the Woodlands. Well, you know how crowds work, Bigby. Next thing you know, they pushing through the gate and swarming into the Woodlands and start lootin' the bloody place."

This shocked Bigby.

"They started looting the Woodlands? But a lot of them lived there!" he said incredulously.

"I don't know how to explain it, mate. They were all mad."

"And I suppose you didn't take part in any of it." Bigby was once again glaring at Toad with his arms crossed.

"Of course not, Bigby! I was just as shocked you are now. I couldn't believe it!"

"Uh huh…so how did the fire start?"

"No one knows exactly how, really. All that I know is that in the middle of all that madness, smoke started comin' out of the windows near the top floor. Before long, the whole building was up in flames. The Mundy fire department showed up an' tried to control the thing, but when it hit the Thirteenth Floor…well…let's just say I've yet to see a firework show as spectacular as that, and that one they put on for New Years eve of '99 came in a right close second. The Mundy's couldn't do much to stop it after that, Hell they couldn't even get close. Ended up burning all night, it did."

"And Snow?" Bigby's voice had softened.

"She...she didn't make it out I'm afraid." Toad's own voice became somber as he remembered that awful truth.

"She wasn't the only one either. Mayor Cole died in the father as well, and that little monkey fellow."

"Bufkin and Cole died too?"

"Yeah, it was a sad occasion, I'll tell you that. They held a memorial service after the fire for the three of 'em."

"Who?"

"The Crooked Man and his crew. Afterward, they held 'elections' to pick new officials. I don't have to tell you who won the seat as mayor. He was practically guaranteed victory.

"So a fire just breaks out during a looting spree, kills several Fables, including Snow, and the Crooked Man just takes over and no one does a thing about it!?" the former Sheriff's eyes were displaying his renewed anger at this news.

"Here now, it wasn't like he just seized power afterward. There was a fair election."

"Who ran against him?"

"Several people, mate…Scrooge, Beast, even Gren threw his hat in."

Toad paused to give a small chuckle.

"Can't say he got many votes, though. I think only Holly voted for him."

"And who'd you vote for?" Bigby demanded.

Toad crossed his arms and looked up at him indignantly.

"That's my own business!" he retorted.

"Toooaaad…."

Bigby was giving the Fable one of his famous stares and was causing the latter to squirm nervously in his chair.

"Oh, alright, I voted for the Crooked Man. I'm not ashamed of it! He got me and me boy our glamours, and he did a lot for Fable Town and was promisin' to do a lot more. He's a done a lot for Fable Town since he was elected to mind you. He's helped business expand, he's made glamours cheaper, hell, he even got me this job."

Bigby's raised an eyebrow.

"Job?"

"Yeah, he set me up in this apartment. He pays the rent and I get a nice paycheck to watch the Woodlands and make the Mundy's don't go poking around in there. He doesn't want them finding the Witching Well, or the Magic Mirror if there's anything left of it…"

"Wait, the Mirror was destroyed?"

"Probably…the Crooked Man was right miffed about it too. He sent Mary and the Tweedles around several times to try and find the thing, but they never could. People reckon it was probably burnt up in the fire, just like Cole, Snow, and Bufkin. They never found any bodies, there was no chance after the fire got to 'em."

A gruesome image of Snow's lifeless, beautiful face being consumed by flames flashed before Bigby's eyes and he shook his head. That was a subject he didn't want to discuss.

"So what's to keep the Mundy's from coming and demolishing the ruins and finding the Witching Well? There was a condemned sign on the gate." He inquired, deciding to return back to the subject of the Woodlands instead.

"Pfft, no worries, mate, that sign's been there since the fire. Bluebeard tossed some money around and now he owns the property. They aren't gonna knock it down without his say so."

'Bluebeard supports the Crooked Man then?"

"Oh yes, in fact he's a huge supporter. The Crooked Man's 'policy of self sufficiency' has helped save him a lot of money. He says these last few years he's had to donate less to Fable Town than ever before."

"Self sufficiency?"

"Yeah, the Crooked Man's been putting a lot of emphasis on businesses. He's helped a lot of Fables start their own, and he taxes the revenues accordingly. Quite a few of the businesses are doing quite well, actually. Jack Horner got himself an entire chain of pawn shops all over New York now. And Georgie owns several night clubs now…"

"Great…more poor girls for him to exploit." Bigby muttered.

"How's that?" Toad asked.

"Nothing…so who's in charge of the Business Office now?"

"Well, there is now Business Office per se. That went along with the Woodlands. No, the Crooked Man built a new place, all out of his own pocket too, calls it Whitehall Plaza. It's a nice place too. Eight stories, good carpetin', no one lives there except him though."

"So where does everyone else live now?"

"All over New York mostly, the Crooked Man purchased homes for those who couldn't afford one themselves, like me."

"But you never lived in the Woodlands. You had your own place already." Bigby pointed out.

"Yeah, but that place got closed down by the bloody Mundies…something about 'asbestos' and how dangerous it is, and how the building will have to be condemned and what not. It was a bullshit, I'll tell you that much. But I went straight to the Crooked Man, and he sorted me out he did." Toad smiled at this.

Bigby had heard enough. One thing was perfectly clear to him, Snow was dead and while it may not have been the direct doing of the Crooked Man, he had certainly started the events that led to it. Besides, the memory of Mary shooting him and taking Crane, all on the Crooked Man's orders was still fresh in his mind. That, if nothing, else was enough for Bigby to go have a 'chat' with the new mayor.

"Where is this White Hall Plaza?" Bigby asked.

"The Flat Iron District, East 20th Street, why?" Toad eyes him suspiciously.

Bigby started for the door of the apartment.

"Oi, where do you think your goin'?!" Toad called after him, getting up from his chair.

"I'm gonna go see the Crooked Man." Bigby's voice was dark and ominous, and it was clear from his tone just how this 'meeting' was going to go down.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Not unless you wanna get on the ugly side of Bloody Mary." Toad advised him anxiously.

"I'm not afraid of her." Bigby retorted, reaching the door to the apartment and grasping the handle.

"You should be, mate. She is the law now."

"What?!" this startling revelation was enough for Bigby to pause and turn back to face Toad, his face displaying his surprise.

"You mean, she…"

"She's the sheriff now Bigby. After you had your little mishap, Snow kept insisting you'd be back to work any day and Beast took over 'temporarily.' But then after the fire the Crooked Man said we needed a sheriff who was there for us when we needed him, and so he chose Mary. I'll tell you mate, crime's been way down since she took the job. You should some of the rumors about her, it'll make your skin quiver." As he spoke, a true element of fear entered into his voice and Bigby realized that Toad was genuinely scared of her.

"That woman's a psychopath…how could they let her be sheriff." He muttered, shaking his head.

"Seems it's a prerequisite for the job now." Said Toad, eyeing Bigby pointedly.

Bigby chose to ignore the implied comment. He had bigger things to worry about now. Either way, he was going to see the Crooked Man, and maybe have a word with Mary too, considering that she had been the one who shot him.

"Goodbye Toad." Bigby said as he opened the door and headed off down the hall.

Toad strode over and stood outside the door, watching the former law man's retreating back.

"I'm warning you Bigby, you hurt him and it's not gonna win you many friends. Remember that!" he called after him.

Bigby either did not hear him or, more likely, ignored him and continued on until he had disappeared out of sight into the stairwell.

Toad stood watching the stairwell for several minutes for before shaking his head and muttering: "blood hell, he hasn't been awake more than twenty-four hours and he's already fuckin' things up," before heading back inside.

It had been an interesting morning.

* * *

><p><em>I know this chapter was mostly dialogue, but you've gotten most of the backstory now (though I'm sure you still have a few unanswered questions). Well, Bigby's off to do what Bigby does best and avenge the woman he loved. I mean he's the hero right? Lol. We'll see how that all goes. Cheers. <em>


	4. Prologue-No Start, No End, Part 4

_What time is it? SHOUT OUT TIME!_

_Riverfang12: Yes indeed, poor Snow getting a free cremation :(. Still, saves money on a casket I suppose lol (sorry, bad taste). Thanks for the review :). _

_FineChyna: Indeed, we're only four chapters into the story and already have three casualties. As for Mary, she's crazy, but you know, homicidal maniacs make good sheriff's right? Keeps the crime rate down (might see an increase in police brutality though). Madison would 44 years old eh? Wow, I can't even picture her a full grown woman with kids and a husband and everything, lol. Guess I'm too used to her being a teen. Thanks for the review :). _

_ReadALLTheBooks: Ok, I know your upset, just put the Red Bull down! Lol. Thanks for the review :). _

_Kaserkin: I am going to try and make it about more than just vengeance. One of the things I liked about TWAU is that it put you in positions that made you question your ethics and what not. I will attempt to do the same here. Glad you like the concept, though. I thought it was a unique one. Thanks for the review :). _

_Bigby Wolf is among us: I kind of thought the same thing to be honest. I felt like Bigby should have take more damage from a silver round than he did, him being a half-wolf and all. Thanks for the review :). _

_Rossana's Mind: I'm just evil aren't I? Lol. Thanks for the review :). _

_twauandmusic: I'm glad you like it. Thanks for the review :). _

_And now...chaaaaaapter fooooouuuurrrr! _

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

Your Place in it

During the entire cab ride, Bigby's head felt like it was going to explode. His brain had not quite finished processing everything that Toad had told him. The idea that the Crooked Man was now mayor of Fabletown was one that he simply could not wrap his mind around. Even more so was the picture of Bloody Mary as sheriff. That Fable was among one of the most bloody thirsty Bigby had ever met, and that was saying something coming from the Big Bad Wolf. More changes…changes that he couldn't help but feel he was not ready for. With that thought in mind, he glanced out of the cab window again at the passing Mundies, all walking, talking on their mobile phones. The whole world felt like it was kicked into high speed, and not just because he was in a car. What made it all worse was that the more he thought about it, the more the pangs of mourning stabbed at his heart like sharp icicles. He wished more than anything that he could be with Snow, so that she could explain this new, strange world to him, but she was dead…

This painful reminder caused his brain to begin playing through every memory he had of her once again, as if it was intent that not a single smile, laugh, or that look of trust she had always given him would not be lost. Each of the memories had to be carefully archived. They were all he had of her now. No more elevator rides together, no more awkward cab rides like the one they had shared on the way to the Trip Trap….

Yet another painful memory that harkened in anew the pain. He remembered her confession in the cab, about her desire to try and change things…to try and make a difference. Now she was gone, a victim of the very system she had tried to reform. Now guilt joined in with grief's grip upon his heart. Was it his fault? What if he had been there? Would things have been different? Could he have saved her?

Bigby shook his head. There was no point in speculation, it wouldn't change anything. Snow was dead and the Woodlands were still destroyed. Nothing he could think or imagine would change that. Drowning in the 'what if' was just a waste of time…that was a lesson that he had learned a long, long time ago. However, despite constantly repeating this to himself, something continued to stick in his gut. That feeling of guilt did not go away. Why?

"_Please, Bigby, come back to me…_" the voice, one of those that had haunted the blackness like ghosts, returned to him. It was Snow's, he was sure of it. He could never forget his voice…he never would.

She had needed him. How many times had she visited him, watching over him…waiting for him to awaken? It would have been an ironic situation, really. Snow White waiting by the bed side of the sleeping prince. He was no prince, however, and he never had woken up. Instead she had waited on a half-dead animal to come to his senses and help her, but he never had. He would have done anything for her, but had nonetheless failed her, and now she was dead. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he just told her how much he cared for her? How much she had meant to him. More than anything, in those last years, he had never cared for someone as deeply as Snow. Only his mother had held such a place in his heart before, and it was only at the loss of his mother that Bigby had ever felt such pain before.

That same gruesome image of Snow's body being consumed by flames played out in his mind's eye, and Bigby shut his own eyes tightly, concentrating on forcing it all away…the grief, the guilt, the regret…all accept the anger. That had to stay. He would need it soon.

"Here we are…Whitehall Plaza." The cabbie's announcement marked a profound change in Bigby.

Gone was all the heavy feelings and emotion that had plagued him on the ride. All that remained was the brick of lead in his chest where his heart had been. Pure rage pulsed through his veins. His eyes gave off that familiar yellow glow. The very aura around him was dark and angry. The look in his eye was the embodiment of everything that was to be feared. It was so much so that, when he handed the cabbie his fee, the man was too terrifying to look Bigby in the eye. The wolf did not notice though, his mind was on one thought and one thought alone:

Snow was dead, and whoever was responsible was going to pay with their blood…it was time to show the world that the Big Bad Wolf was back!

Staring straight ahead, gritting his teeth, and clenching his fists, Bigby made his way up a pair of stone steps and through a pair of glass double doors. The side of the building was actually very nice and well designed, but Bigby paid little attention to that. His foot falls were noising on the tile floor, increased by the fact that he was semi-stomping with each step.

"Sir, can I help you?" someone asked, but Bigby continued to stare straight ahead, having not even really heard the man.

"Sir?" suddenly, a body was blocking his path, drawing a low growl from Bigby as one might here from a beaten dog.

"Oh my God…Bigby Wolf?"

Bigby focused on the person blocking his path. It was a young man with brown hair and a young face that he did recognize. It was Tim.

"Where's the Crooked Man?" Bigby demanded, his voice never losing its dark tone.

"Bigby….what…how…?" Tim's face held the same look of disbelief that had followed Bigby around all day. Frankly it only served to agitate him more. He did not have the patience to recount his story since he had awoken.

"Where is he, Tim?"

"He's in his office but…I mean…let me call him and…"

Bigby was gone before Tim could even finish. Side stepping the young lad, Bigby made his way toward a pair of elevator doors.

"Bigby, wait! You can't just…!" Tim called after him as Bigby pushed the button to call the elevator.

The bearded Fable ignored Tim's objections, however, and just stared at the closed metal doors, listening to the elevator making its way down to him. He heard Tim's approaching footsteps approaching, and some small part of his brain that was not focused on his goal acknowledged the fact that there was no longer the pronounced limp with every other step. The doors slid open and Bigby entered the elevator. He turned just in time to see Tim step into the space where the door was supposed to close, preventing it from doing so.

"Bigby, stop!"

For a boy who used to be known as 'Tiny', Tim's voice was very forceful. Bigby didn't have time for it, though. Some of the anger that was within him now turned upon this new obstacle in his way.

"Move away, Tim…" his voice remained calm, but icy.

"Bigby, let me just call him, alright? It's my job, and I need to…"

"What floor is he on?"

"Bigby…"

"WHAT FLOOR, TIM?!" this last demand was a shout.

Tim stepped back a little in shock, allowing Bigby time to look down at the boy's leg. The brace was no longer there.

"Top floor, his office is the only room up there." Tim said quietly, his face betraying his inner anxiety, after a moment of silence.

The elevator door, with Tim gone, began to slide closed and as it did Bigby nodded to the young man.

"Thank you." Said Bigby, his voice calm again.

The door met home, closing Tim off from view. As the elevator began to ascend, Bigby looked down at his feet and took a deep breath. It did not help the anger that was still boiling within him, screaming to be released. Where was it all coming from? He had felt angry when he had discovered Lily's glamoured head, but not as angry as this. This was beyond anger; this was a rage that he had not felt since his mother's death. Why did he feel it for Snow now and not before? The answer came to him when he remembered why he was in this building, taking an elevator to its top floor. Now he had something to concentrate his rage on: the Crooked Man. It was just like when his mother had died and he had felt the same thirst for vengeance toward his father. Yes, the beast within him was howling for blood, and it would be sated…soon…

With a 'bing' the elevator came to a halt and the door slid open, revealing a long hallways illuminated by florescent lights. The design of the hallway was even more spectacular. The walls were painted with black and white stripes, creating a rather disorienting effect, and the floor was made entirely of gray cobblestone. It was like walking down a road in Victorian England. Bigby's feet made a distinctive clapping sound on the stone as he strode down the hall, his eyes narrowing on a pair of grey doors ahead. They were just another obstacle to him, though much more easily surmounted than Tim (not that the boy had been much difficulty either). Bigby reached out to the left door's handle, turned it, and the door swung open, allowing the wolf his entry.

The office inside was even more stunning, so much so that Bigby actually took a moment to pause and look around. The floor was built of quality redwood planks. The walls were a deep purple. Paintings adorned the walls and, to Bigby's surprise, they were all of Fables. There was a painting of Jack Horner in his brown trouser and green shirt standing next to the stump of a beanstalk with an axe slung over his shoulder, a picture depicting Beauty and Beast kissing while Beast held a single rose in one hand, there was even a picture of a great, grey wolf snarling out at the paintings viewer. Bigby's attention was drawn away from the artwork to a structure in the center of the room. The structure was a ziggurat, only about four or five levels high, constructed of a darker wood than the floorboards. At the apex of this shrine was a plain wooden desk with a plate on the front of it that read: 'Mayor'.

Seated at the desk and looking up from some strange, square shaped device that was emitting light was none other than the Crooked Man himself. His mustache, drooped bottom of his left eye, and the crooked shape of his nose were all that Bigby needed to identify the man. For his part, the Crooked Man stared down at Bigby, but instead of the look of disbelief or shock that wolf had come to expect, the Fable looked down upon with an expression that Bigby could not truly read. Bigby became so focused on trying to understand the expression that for a time neither of them moved, but only continued looking one another over.

This pause was disrupted when a phone on the desk began to ring. The Crooked Man, never taking his eyes of off his visitor, reached down and answered it.

"Hello? Yes Tim, what is it? Yes…I see…that wouldn't happen to be Bigby Wolf would it? Yes, he's here right now. No…that is fine, I was expecting him. No…not at all…thank you dear boy." After this brief conversation, the Crooked Man hung up the phone and stood up from his desk before making his way slowly, but deliberately, around it.

Bigby was staring up at him, and the anger and thirst for retribution had returned. Still, a sense of curiosity caused him to speak up.

"Who told you I was coming?" he asked.

"I beg your pardon?" the Crooked Man inquired politely enough as he tucked his hands behind his back and began to descend the steps leading up the ziggurat.

"You said you were expecting me…"

"Well, yes and no…you see I was not under the impression that you would show up in my office today. On the other hand, I've always known that you would turn up some day, therefore in a sense, yes, I have been expecting you." The Crooked Man continued down the steps as he talked until he was standing on the last step only a few feet away from Bigby.

He then extended his hand.

"I don't believe we ever got the chance to formally meet before your…accident."

Bigby gave a snort of derision.

"Accident? One of your men shot me…or should I say one of your women?"

The Crooked Man seemed to contemplate the retort.

"I believe you are referring to Miss Mary? Yes, unfortunate that. I did not order her to do so, however, regardless of what you may think. She's always had a bit of an impulsive streak about her. I apologize for any discomfort…"

"Discomfort?! I was shot and put into a coma for twenty-eight years!"

"And once again, you have my apologies, but that was not my doing."

"Don't worry, I've got more than one bone to pick with you." Bigby's voice became that signature growl, and he stepped closer, bearing his teeth.

"Indeed? Well then, by all means, tell me your grievances, Mr. Wolf." The Crooked Man replied, his face seeming to display actual concern.

"I've seen the Woodlands…what you did to them."

"I did nothing to them…"

"And what happened to Snow! Toad told me all about. The Woodlands are gone, she's dead, it's all on you!" Bigby's voice was getting loader and loader as the anger exploded out of him.

Despite these shows of rage, the Crooked Man appeared unfazed and continued to speak calmly.

"And these were Mr. Toad's _exact_ words?"

"Well, no…but he told me how you were involved."

"Mr. Wolf, I was not personally involved in any way with the destruction of the Woodlands."

"Maybe not, but it was _your _mob that destroyed them."

"My mob? Mr. Wolf, you surprise me. A man such as you should know that the mob is an ungodly creature. It has no controller, no one that it answers to. What happened at the Woodlands was not what I wanted, nor intended. I sought change…not destruction."

"And what about Snow?!"

"That too I did not intend. I believe Miss White was a poor woman who found herself in over her head, not a monster to be destroyed. I believe she wanted to make a difference for us all…but it takes a certain kind of strength…a special kind of being to issue in a new era."

"Someone like you?" Bigby hissed.

"At the risk of sounding immodest…yes."

"I've seen your character…extortion, murder, racketeering…I had whole files full of your 'character."

"And if you were to take a look at the new Fabletown community, you would see that those assumptions are simply not true."

"What assumptions!? I've seen your work. You had me shot, and then you kidnapped Crane to try and hide the fact that you were using him to steal money from Fabletown!"

"I stole nothing. I only accepted payments that were due to me. Mr. Crane owed me a great deal of money. Is it illegal for a man to expect money that he is owed? How Mr. Crane obtained the funds were not of my concern." The man seemed to have an answer for everything, and it was just pissing Bigby off more and more.

"And what about those girls!?"

"Crane was tried, convicted and punished. I wished to see those girls receive justice as well, Mr. Wolf."

"And Snow? What justice did she get?"

"We gave her the best funeral that money could buy. I appointed a special committee to investigate the fire and try and bring whoever was responsible to justice, but in the end we could not find enough evidence for any convictions."

The Crooked Man walked the rest of the way down the steps and started toward one of the paintings to the right of the room. The painting was of Snow White, dressed in her beautiful gown and holding a red apple in one hand.

"It is as I said before." He continued, remorse in his voice, as he looked up at the portrait with what seemed like reverence, "I did not wish the death of Miss White. I would have had her live. I sought change, just as she did, to try and make the lives of our fellow Fables better and more fulfilling. Our goals were not incomprehensible to each other. Her death truly saddened me."

"Don't act like you give shit! Like you actually care that she's dead! Like you like you actually KNEW her!" Bigby roared as he approached the Crooked Man with his eyes glowing, and claws beginning to extend from his finger tips.

In one swift motion, he grabbed the Crooked Man by the back of his pinstripe suit and spun him around with his other hand raised, prepared to deliver a blow.

"323 West 71st Street!" the Crooked Man shouted suddenly, causing Bigby to stay his hand.

"What?" he demanded.

"That is where Dr. Swineheart was keeping you while you recovered. He thinks he kept you hidden from me, but I've known for some time."

"And this has to do with what?!"

"If I am truly the monster you claim me to be, why did I not send one of my associates to simply finish you off, hmm? Why would I allow you to recuperate?"

This point actually did give Bigby pause. Why hadn't he had Bigby killed? Seeing the hesitation in the Big Bad Wolf, the Crooked Man continued.

"You view of me would change if you simply looked at what I have done for this community. Just look at Tim. Did you notice that he is longer limping or walking with a brace? Do you know how much I spent fixing his leg for him? A great deal and I demanded nothing in return. I even pay him a regular salary to be Whitehall's doorman. There are similar stories to be heard from any Fable. Ask Jack, Georgie, or Beauty or Beast. I gave them all futures, a place in this world, something that the old system never could. They do not see me as a villain, but as their savior."

"You think of yourself as some sort of great man…." Bigby growled, still holding the Crooked Man by the throat, "…but I know you!"

"Do you? Do you truly know me, Mr. Wolf? Because if you did, you would know that killing me will do nothing more than seal your own fate."

Once again Bigby hesitated. His mind was trying to digest it all. The man was a villain, wasn't he? He had had Bigby shot hadn't he? He had forced people into debt, hadn't he? So why was Bigby so uneasy about simply ending this wretched beings life? It wasn't the idea of being ostracized. Even if the man had the support of Fabletown, what did that matter? Bigby had been an outcast since the start, it would change nothing. So why was his mind rebelling against the message he kept sending his arm to squeeze that throat until if cracked? Glancing up at the portrait of Snow, Bigby saw that she had a disapproving look in her eyes, which seemed to be fixed right upon him.

"_This_ _isn't what she'd want...you spilling blood in her name."_ At last the rational part of him broke through the barrier of fury that had built up within him since his visit with Toad.

"_And you know it." _

Bigby relaxed his grip, his eyes never leaving Snow's (or, at least, her portrait's). He remembered her words to him, after Lily's funeral….

"_I've heard it said…that maybe…in some tiny little, bottled up way, deep inside…you kind of enjoy it…when things go wrong. Because it gives you an excuse to just, you know, stop pretending." _

An excuse…that's all it was. There was something about Snow's eyes, even when she was alive, that when Bigby looked into them, they gave him some sort of insight into himself. They were the light that helped him break through the darkness that had shrouded his heart his entire life. She was his ego, his defense against his id. He was angry at the Crooked Man, about Snow's death and about being dumped in this strange new world, but murdering him would change none of it. It wouldn't bring Snow back, or send him back in time. Snow would have been horrified and disgusted by his actions. Just an excuse….

All while this was going through his mind, Bigby continued to loosen his grip until he released the Crooked Man altogether and took a step back, his gaze still upon Snow's portrait.

"Wise choice…" that voice, _that voice_…

It came from behind him, and Bigby whirled with a snarl. None other than Bloody Mary herself, dressed in her usual attire and aiming a revolver right at him , stood a few feet away, that evil grin that still haunted Bigby's memory firmly in place on her lips.

"Well, well, well, looks like the puppy's finally awake. Pity, I was just praying for an excuse to finish you off." She continued in a mocking tone, still grinning widely.

"Who says it won't be you who's finished off!" the thirst for blood was back in full, and Bigby bared his elongated teeth and claws at her.

"Enough! Put it away!" the command came from the Crooked Man, who stepped in front of Bigby.

Mary looked confused, and a little put out, but she did as told and lowered her revolver. After seeing that this was done, the Crooked Man turned to face Bigby.

"I think it would be best if you leave now, Mr. Wolf. You need some time to think on what I have said, and while you are doing so, ponder this: regardless of your feelings on me, in the final analysis you face two options. You may continue to seek remedies to conflicts that were resolved a long time ago and kill me, be branded a murderer, and hunted by the Fabletown community for the rest of your life…"

"You think I'm scared of being a pariah? I lived as one for centuries!" Bigby retorted.

The Crooked Man chose to ignore the comment, and continued.

"Or, you can accept the fact that the world has changed since you were last a part of it, and you can find your place in it."

There was silence as Bigby seemed to think over his reply.

"My place huh? And just what is my place?"

"That is for you to decide. I'm afraid I cannot offer you your old position back, as it has been filled. However, I am not completely heartless. I can offer you a job if you wish."

"A job?"

"Yes…"

"And what would this job require, breaking people knee caps who don't pay?"

"Nothing that would bring you distaste."

Bigby sneered. "I can be pickier than you think."

The Crooked Man seemed to understand and nodded.

"Of course, but if you ever change your mind, the offer shall stand." With that, the Crooked Man ascended the steps back to his desk, Bigby watching him with narrowed eyes as he went.

"Now, if you do not mind, Mr. Wolf, I have a great deal of work to do. The Sheriff will see you out." He continued, sitting down at his desk and gesturing toward Mary.

Bigby looked at Mary as well, and snarled again, but the demon simply smiled her cruel, trademark smile and waved her revolver.

"Well, come on then boy, let's take you out back so you can do your business." She purred, clearly enjoying taunting him.

Bigby was still pretty angry, but his rationality was back, and in full enough control that he did not lunge at Mary and rip out her innards in the spot. Instead, he gave the Crooked Man one last glance before turning and heading toward the doors to the office. Mary watched him for a moment, then turned and gave a nod to the Crooked Man, saying: "Mr. Mayor" before following behind the wolf a few steps back, revolver still clutched firmly in hand. However, just before exiting, Bigby turned back to look at the Crooked Man.

"We aren't finished, you and me…" he warned him.

The Crooked Man, cool as ever, simply nodded.

"You know where to find me." He said.

With that, Bigby left the office. For a while he and Mary just walked down the hall in silence, almost like a prisoner being led to execution by his jailer until they reached the elevator. It had not moved since Bigby's (or, more likely, Mary's) arrival and so the door opened immediately when Bigby pushed the call button. The pair entered, with Mary taking up position in front of the door, clearly not wishing to have any side of her but her front facing the Big Bad Wolf at all times. Her grin stayed firmly planted as the door closed and the elevator started down. She was enjoying every minute of it.

"You know I didn't believe them when they said you were dead." Mary broke the tense silence, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I mean how such a powerful, feared Fable could be killed by just _one _bullet. Hell, I thought you were stronger than that."

Bigby chose to remain silent, even though it meant gritting his teeth so tightly that they felt like they were going to crack. Mary wasn't done, though.

"Now here you are, looking quite healthy I'd say. All patched up and alone in world that forgot you. You're just a legend now, a story to scare little kids into behaving. Me…I've got my own movie series now, too bad I can't get any royalties."

Mary's eyes were positively brimming with sadistic pleasure and malice.

"I'm real to them…and they remember…"

"I didn't realize that psychopaths were allowed to be sheriff." Bigby retorted at last, his voice as calm as he could keep it.

"Hahaha, that's a rich, especially coming from you. They used to fear you too, you know, but now you're just the boogey man. Me, I'm more than just the sheriff…" she leaned in close so her face was only inches from Bigby's, "…I'm the judge, the jury, and the _executioner_. Remember that, _wolf_."

"Don't worry; I won't be forgetting you any time soon." Bigby hissed back.

What followed was perhaps one of the most intense staring contests ever done on the face of this Earth. Each waiting for the other to look away, to back down, to break…

'Bing'

The elevator came to a halt and the door slid open. Mary grinned and stepped aside.

"Believe this is your floor."

Bigby walked past her without as much as a second glance. However, he had only gone a few feet when Mary called after him.

"Oh, and Mr. Wolf…"

Bigby stopped, but did not turn.

"You may want to come by my office in a few days to get some paperwork straightened out. Need to get you in the system and what no, yadda, yadda, bureaucratic bullshit and whatnot."

She sighed, but then smiled as she continued.

"Still, I enjoy our little…chats." And with that the elevator door closed.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself, Bigby continued toward the front desk where he saw Tim talking with a woman with blond hair. He thought he recognized the woman, and as he approached the pair they stopped talking and looked over at him.

"So Toad wasn't full of it then. You really are back." The woman observed as she looked him over. Bigby suddenly remembered where he had seen her before.

"Hello, Vivian." Bigby nodded to her.

"Well, he looks healthy enough to me. Guess you'll be taking over Sheriff then?"

"Afraid not, you already have one."

"Yeah…." Vivian whispered this part, looking down at the floor.

Bigby glanced over at Tim, who was also wearing an uncomfortable look. Upon seeing that the former sheriff was watching him, Tim forced a smile.

"She's not as bad as you'd think. She's…very efficient." Tim said, clearly making an effort to choose his words carefully.

"The crime rate is definitely down. After the things that they say about her…" Vivian began, but was cut off by a load throat clearing from Tim.

Vivian shook her head.

"Well, it doesn't matter. How have you been Bigby?" she instead turned her attention back to him.

"I don't know, haven't been awake for the last twenty eight years." Bigby replied bluntly, taking out his pack of cigarettes.

"Umm, I'm afraid this building is no smoking." Tim explained, but as one might expect, Bigby ignored him and lit up.

Vivian actually chuckled a little.

"I'd be careful if I were you. They take that stuff seriously since that whole lawsuit against the tobacco companies a while ago. It's not really a welcome habit these days."

Bigby's response was to take a long draw and let it out of his lungs slowly, sending a cloud of nicotine smoke pouring from his mouth. Vivian shook her head with a small, almost sad grin.

"Yeah…I get it, you don't give a shit. But just keep what I said in mind if you wanna stay on the Mundy's good side. They don't take very kindly to people smoking in most places now."

Bigby turned back to Tim.

"I see the leg brace is gone." He noted.

"Yeah…" Tim smiled, and even seemed a little relieved (perhaps at seeing that Bigby was less angry than he had been when he had gone up).

"…The Crooked Man paid for all of it. Gave the witches a small fortune to repair it."

"Where is all of that now…with the Thirteenth Floor gone and all?" Bigby inquired, suddenly curious.

"Well, there's a Department of Glamours and Magic here in Whitehall, but most of the actual magic production takes place at The Works."

"The Works?"

"Yeah, it's down by the river. It used to be a metal plant before it went under and the Crooked Man bought it up. Shepherd Metalwork or something like that…"

"Uh huh…" Bigby, to be honest, wasn't really paying full attention. As he smoked his cigarette and calmed down more and more he began to realize that he was facing a lot of questions now.

Most primary in his mind was: what now? He had no job, no house, and a small growl in his stomach reminded him that he had not eaten or even drank since awakening. Vivian, watching him closely, seemed to read the look of uncertainty on his face.

"So what are going to do now, Bigby?" she inquired.

Bigby took another draw from his cigarette before replying.

"I'll figure something out." Was all he said.

Tim and Vivian exchanged a look.

"You know, the Crooked Man could probably…" Tim began, but was fell silent when Bigby shot him a murderous look.

"I'll have no favors from _him_!" the wolf muttered.

"He's not as bad as you think, Bigby. Just…"

"What!? Give him a chance!? You think just because he fixes your leg he's suddenly the biggest saint in Earth!?" Bigby's voice was growing angry again.

"It's not like that!" Tim shot back, equally angry. "He's done a lot, not just for me, but for everyone!"

"Hey!" Vivian's shout interrupted the argument between the pair, and both looked at her.

"Bigby, if you don't want to take a job from the Crooked Man I…I might have something for you." She continued.

"What kind of job?" Bigby asked suspiciously.

"I don't know if you have heard or not, but the Pudding N Pie has expanded over the year. We have several clubs now all over New York City."

"Yeah, I heard."

"Well, we've having problems with customers getting…rough…lately and we could use someone to make sure they stay in line and …"

"No!" Bigby said adamantly, crossing his arms.

"Bigby…"

"I'm not gonna play bouncer for your little exploitation racket. Those poor girls, Lily, Faith…"

"Those days are over!" Vivian shouted, surprising Bigby a little and he raised his eyebrows at this show of anger.

"Things are…different now. Georgie and I…we've…had a falling out…over…certain things…" as she spoke, Vivian reached up to touch the ribbon on her neck.

Bigby saw this and remembered…

"_You liked my ribbon?"_

"_Beautiful…" _

"The Pudding N Pie is strictly a hands off place now. No more…funny business…" she finished resolutely.

Bigby seemed to consider it for a moment, but shook his head in the end.

"Sorry, I'm not gonna be a part of that." He reiterated his previous stance with even more conviction than before.

"You'd be doing a service to them, you know." Vivian persisted, causing Bigby to sidestep her and start toward the front doors.

"Sorry, no…" was all he said.

"Bigby!" the time it was Tim.

"Yeah?"

"Wh-what…I mean…where are you gonna go?" the boy asked.

"I'll be fine, Tim. I can take care of myself." Bigby replied in earnest as he reached the doors and opened one.

Recalling Snow's words to him all those years ago, he added:

"I've been doing it for centuries."

* * *

><p>'Crunch, crunch, cruch'<p>

Debris cracked and crunched under Bigby's feet. He was back at the beginning, the Woodlands. The sun was now high in the sky, as the afternoon was beginning and was giving him plenty of light as he looked over the burned and charred ruins of everything that had once been a part of his home. The burnt frames of the mailboxes, the soot stained elevator doors, even the old board that had displayed the names of the tenants on it were all that remained of the lobby that could be recognized. As he glanced over the names, most of which were either missing, or obscured by ash, he happened to glance down and saw a small white piece of plastic half buried in the dust and ash. Picking it up and dusting it off, Bigby could just make out the words, still somehow legible after all these years: S. White.

Seeing the plaque brought it all back, the grief, the regret, the guilt. He had been there, right there, so close to avenging her death, but had been unable to go through with it. Maybe he was going soft, and it was Snow who made him so. He realized that now. She had appealed to the best in him, that part that he had locked away since his mother's death. She saw past the Big Bad Wolf and saw something more…something…human. Her beautiful face consumed by the flames haunted him again, and Bigby released the name plate, allowing it the flutter to the ground.

God, he missed her so much!

A burning sensation that he had not felt in some time began to tingle in the corners of his eyes. Before long, he could feel the warm tears making their way down his cheeks as he continued to look down at Snow's name, lying in the ashes of what was once his home. It was all gone…the world he had known was dead, just like her. This new world…this crooked world…was all he had.

There had only ever been one other person Bigby had ever cried for in his life, and that was his mother. Now, Snow too was granted this rare honor as he continued to weep silently for the woman he had loved. For what felt like ages he simply stood in silence, tears falling and some splattering up on the plate.

"_All gone…all lost…" _

With a shuddering sigh, Bigby wiped the tears from his eyes and exited the ruined building.

"_No more tears…they'll do nothing for her." _He resolved as he sat down on the steps of the Woodlands.

For a time he continued to stare down at his ash stained shoes, trying to decide what to do next. Snow may have been dead, but he was not. Life and its requirements would soon be upon him in full force. He would need food, shelter…

At first, the idea of returning to the woods crossed his mind. He could hunt again, live off the land, return to what he was…what he had always been.

"_No, that's not what she would have wanted." _Once again that part of him objected with the same argument.

Bigby realized that he could not go back to the old ways. Snow had come to save him from all that. Going back to his old ways…back to being a monster…would have been an insult to her memory. No, he would get a job and live as she would have wanted him to. But this was easier said than done. Where would he find work?

The offers from both the Crooked Man and Vivian crossed his mind, but neither seemed particularly appealing. Sure, he did not know anything about the job the Crooked Man might give him, but Bigby was prone to reject that on principle, if not due to his utter hatred of the man. There was Vivian's job, but that wasn't really too appealing either. Protecting strippers from their clients was not a job that Snow would have approved of.

So what other option did that leave? Bigby looked up at the open gate. The only other option was to strike it out and make his own way.

In any case, he would do what the Crooked Man had said, he would find his place in this new world.

"_For you, Snow._"

* * *

><p><em>Right, two things to discuss here. First, I recently had a nice long conversation with my friend a few days ago concerning my writing (the subject was another story, not this one) and his main criticism was that I have problems invoking emotion with my writing. I have attempted to address this weakness in this chapter, so if you feel nothing please let me know. Criticism makes me stronger.<em>

_Second: one of the many things that I liked about TWAU is that it allowed you to choose. To that end, I am going to give my readers the same option. I will set up a poll on my account and you may feel free to vote on which job you think Bigby should take (or if he should go it on his own). Be warned, your choice WILL affect the story. Also, since I know that only those with fanfic accounts can vote in polls, I will accept votes in reviews (but please do not drop a vote in a review, and then go and vote in the poll. Your honesty is appreciated). Hope you lot enjoyed the chapter. Cheers. _


	5. Episode 1-Start Here, Part 1

_I apologize for the wait, school has been rather demanding lately. Anyways, time for some shout outs nay? _

_FineChyna-Well, I'm glad you think so, it means my ability to invoke emotion is improving, lol. Yes, Crooked Man is a difficult fellow to read, but then the truly evil genius is. Its not the regular villains you have to worry about, its the **smart** ones. Sorry Vivian's job didn't win, but hey, democracy is what it is, lol. It's good that you feel bad when Bigby thinks about Snow, that's the point, her memory is a very painful one for him. Like I said, I guess I'm getting better at this emotion invoking thing. Thanks for the review :). _

_LostHero171-I'm glad you think so. Like I said, one of the things that I liked about TWAU is that it gave you some much choice in who Bigby was and how the story progressed. Glad you think the emotion is good, its means I'm improving. Thanks for the review :). _

_Jana Girl123- Well you know, the faulty wiring in these New York buildings these days, accidents happen all the time, lol. As to your two cents, I appreciate it, I'm all out of gum, lol. Just kidding, I do appreciate the review though :). _

_ReadALLTheBooks- I would say Colin is a 9.4 on the delicious matter. You disagree, well HULK SMASH...just kidding. I thin Bigby would be more likely to live in a cave then a tree...or maybe I'm just stereotypical toward wolves. I guess I should learn to be more open minded, lol. Thanks for the review, and for the vote via review, sorry your choice did win :(. _

_Riverfang12- Perhaps he would, but to be honest if Bigby left New York it would sort of kill my whole story, lol. Still, I appreciate your vote, which I counted as 'go it alone' and the review :). _

_ShivaSpectrum- It's alright, don't cry. *Sob* if you cry, then I'll cry, and we'll never get through this...*sob*...hold me...lol, thanks for the review :). _

_twauandmusic-Thank you, I try to be specific, lol. Thanks for the review :). _

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><p><span>Chapter 5<span>

A Losing Battle

"_Good morning New York, and happy 2015!" _the voice cut into Bigby's ears, causing his eyes to shoot open. He sat up quickly, his instincts telling him to be ready for a fight. Upon seeing that the only 'threat' in the room was his damned radio/alarm clock, he fell back onto the bed with a sigh.

"_I hope you all had a good New Year's Eve last night, hopefully you didn't party too hard, hahahah…_"

As if on cue, Bigby became aware of the pounding in his head, and reached up a hand to touch his tender forehead with a groan.

"_Well, in any case, if you've managed to pull yourself out of bed this morning, bundle up, it's gonna be a cold one. We're looking at temperatures in the upper teens, but with that wind-chill factor…_"

The radio man's voice was doing little to relieve the pain in Bigby's skull, and before long his temper had gotten the better of him.

"RAAAGH!" with a roar, he slammed his fist down on the snooze button, not only silencing the clock, but also snapping it in two.

"Awww shit…!" he muttered, staring over at the destroyed remnants of what had been his third clock in the past month (and they weren't cheap either).

With now both his head and hand hurting him, Bigby decided to get out of bed. His bare feet touching the cold, hardwood floor caused him to wince a little. He made his way to the bathroom, which was no bigger than a closet, with just enough room for a sink, a toiler, and small stall that barely passed as a shower. His room was really no bigger, and beyond that was the kitchen where the apartment's front door was. Compared to his current home, his apartment in the Woodlands had been a penthouse!

In the bathroom, Bigby studied his face in the mirror. His eyes had dark bags under them, and his beard had grown out, covering about a third of his neck. With the use of a razor and a pair of scissors Bigby trimmed the wild bushel of hair back down what it had been since he had awoken. At first he had had so many things on his mind, that the beard had not really troubled him. As the months wore on, he had considered shaving it back down to what it had been before, the layer of itchy stubble. However, as the cold weather had drawn on, the beard had begun to serve a purpose, so he kept it, but still made an effort to keep it trim and short in length. The hair on his head he had also allowed to grow out, though only in the back. While his banks remained just above his eyebrows, his hair hung down almost all the way to his shoulders in the back.

Once he considered himself presentable to the world, Bigby headed back out into the bedroom to dress. He was grateful for this, as the apartment was distinctly chilly, and he was dressed in literally nothing but his undergarments.

"_Damn heater must be on the fritz again…"_ Bigby thought as he dressed.

His clothing choices were as limited by his financial situation as his housing, and so he threw on an old pair of blue jeans, and a red and white checkered, long sleeve shirt (all of which he had attained from a thrift shop) before heading out into the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge door and browsed its contents for breakfast. The whole thing was depressingly bare, accepting half a case of whiskey. Bigby eyed it for a moment, before slamming the door. The case had originally had a brother, but he had polished it off the previous night (his own private New Year's celebration). Actually, to be fair, the cases had been leftovers from another time.

From the moment Bigby had left the Woodlands on his first day of being awake, he had been battling depression. He recognized it: the heavy feeling in his chest, his mind constantly replaying memories of Snow, and an overall lack of any sort of emotion within him. He had felt dead, as if all meaning had left his existence. It wasn't just over Snow, either. He felt lonelier than ever in this unfamiliar world. Nonetheless, he was determined not to fall into depression. It had done nothing for him, before, it would be even more useless now, and would only succeed on hobbling his efforts adapt to the new order of things.

"_You adapt, or you die. This is a fundamental law of nature, Bigby…"_ These had been his mother's words.

At first he tried his best to fight it off himself, but it quickly became apparent that doing so was a losing battle. The memories still haunted him, as did the grief, and the constant wondering. What if he had been around to protect her? What would things have been like then? Would they have been different? What if he had confessed his feelings to her? Would they have become a couple? Would they have been married and even had children by now? It didn't matter in the end. They were just pipe dreams now.

When it became apparent that he could not fight off these feelings himself, Bigby turned to the next logical choice: alcohol. So for the next three months, Bigby got drunk nearly every evening after work. His jobs were often menial, such as moving boxes around warehouses down by the wharf or working on a construction detail. He would make his money, go to the nearest bar, and get shitfaced…that was his routine. He had always been a regular drinker before, but now his consumption of libations was almost constant when he was not working (he was fired from more than one job for showing up drunk). Unfortunately, in his drunken state, Bigby found himself taking even deeper looks into the feelings that continued to parade around inside him. In fact, he began to notice parallels. His failure to protect Snow struck a resounding resemblance to his failure to protect his mother from the creatures that ultimately made her precious body their meal for the day. It became even worse when winter began to set in, and the snow began to fall. It's white, glittering surface in the morning served only as a constant reminder of her. It hurt, so much, to awaken every morning and think of her. The effect the obvious, Bigby began drinking more.

Then, one night after a particularly hard binger, he had had a dream. It was a strange dream, in which he had awakened to find Snow sleeping next to him. Then, there had been a cry from a room nearby, and Bigby had gotten out of bed to investigate. In the room next door he had found six cradles holding six small half-wolf, half-human children…his children. He had lifted one of them out of their cradle and held them, as tenderly and as lovingly as his own mother had him when he was a cub. Suddenly, Snow had entered and smiled at the child before kissing Bigby on the cheek. Then, she had said:

"_I love you so much." _At which point the smile on her face had faded and tears formed in her eyes.

"_Look at what you've done to yourself!" _

Bigby had then glanced down and seen that his arms were covered in vomit. He woke up then, and came to realize that he was indeed lying in a puddle of his own regurgitation on the floor of his apartment. That had been it, the turning point. For all his pain and memories that he increasingly found himself whishing he could forget, Bigby had to face this fact: Snow would not have wanted him descending into alcoholism. So the alcohol was out. Not completely, but Bigby dialed back considerably. In fact, the previous night had been the first time that he had gotten actually drunk in nearly two months. The cases were remnants of that dark time.

After these reflections, and a bit more consideration, Bigby grabbed the remaining case and shut the fridge behind him. He set the bottles down briefly in order to put on an old pair of black snow boots and a grey trench coat he had found in a Goodwill store. As soon as the wolf was satisfied that he was fortified for his fray with the cold, he stepped out into the hall. The fact that he could tell absolutely no difference between the temperatures outside in the hall and in his apartment led Bigby to further curse his radiator.

"_He said he was gonna send a guy around to fix it….back in October." _Bigby thought bitterly.

The whole situation reminded him of the letters he had found on Crane's desk all those years ago from the different Fables complaining of some building dysfunction or another. For his part, Bigby's apartment, while small and crummy, had nonetheless been well looked after as far as maintenance went. Perhaps that was simply because he had been sheriff.

"_You're living at the bottom of the ladder now." _

Bigby locked his door and headed down the hall and the elevator the front entry hall before stepping out into the January cold. Winters in New York had never been a pleasant experience, but this winter in particular seemed extraordinarily cruel. Perhaps was something to this 'climate change' stuff he'd been hearing the Mundies talk about…or maybe it was just because of how things were now. Everything seemed colder and darker than before.

Outside in the street he hailed a cab and tossed the case on the seat next to him.

"Hope you don't plan on drinking those in here, mac." the driver said, gesturing toward the case.

Bigby ignored the comment and stated his destination. The cab started off and Bigby watched the white mounds of snow, tainted all kinds of colors from black to brown from the various impurities of the city. The snow, tainted by the cities scum….

He shook his head and decided that he needed something to take his mind off of things. So he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of L&M cigarettes. With the Huff n Puffs gone, Bigby had been forced to choose a new brand, and the Marlboros had simply not done it for him. He put one of the tubes of tobacco in his mouth before producing a lighter. He had just managed to the light the tip and drawn in his first mouthful when the cabbie spoke up.

"Hey, you can't smoke in here!" he said indignantly.

Bigby continued his draw and then let the smoke out in a long, slow exhale.

"Yeah…how about that." He muttered.

'_Screeeeech' _the cab came to a sudden halt, causing Bigby to fall forward a little, though his seat belt saved him from hitting the back of the seat in front of him face first.

"I'm serious mac, if my boss smells cigarette smoke in my cab I could lose my job. So either you put it out, or you _get _out!" the man insisted angrily.

Bigby stared angrily at the man for a moment, but seeing that he was unlikely to change his mind he rolled down the window and tossed the cig out. The cab drove on, though the driver continued to shoot occasional ugly looks at his passenger. Bigby didn't really care; he just continued staring out of the window. He tried to simply focus on the view and not think about how annoyed he was. To honest he missed the days when he could have a nice smoke on his cab rides. It seemed unfair in his opinion. But times had changed….

Once again his thoughts were interrupted by the cab coming to a halt.

"We're here." The cabbie announced, his voice as icy as the weather.

Bigby exited, grabbing his case of liquor, and counted out the fare. The cabbie refused to make eye contact with him as he took the money and then sped off, clearly glad to be rid of him. Bigby watched the taxi drive away before turning to look at his destination. A light of steps went down into the basement of a building, and over the steps hung a sign with three goats walking over a bridge with the words: Trip Trap Bar painted over the picture of the goats.

As he approached the door, Bigby became aware of loud music being played from the building above the bar. He did not pay it much heed as he raised a fist to knock. Suddenly, the door flung open. Bigby's fist paused mid air and he stared in surprise at a grim looking man with dark black hair and one eye that was missing a pupil.

"Hello Gren." Bigby greeted the Fable with a nod.

"Sheriff…" Gren barely acknowledged Bigby as he passed by and started up the steps.

"Not anymore." Bigby called after him.

"Yeah well, old habits die hard….HEY!" Gren's voice was low and dismissive at first, but raised to a shout.

"HEY, I'M NOT GONNA TELL YOU AGAIN, TURN THAT SHIT DOWN OR OFF!"

A window three floors open opened and a young man with long black hair, piercing on what seemed like every part of his face, and a tattoo of a dragon that went from the side of his face all the way down his neck and disappearing into his shirt.

"Screw you, man! It's a free country, I can play my shit all I want!" the man retorted.

"LISTEN PAL, YOU DON'T WANT ME COMIN' UP THERE!" Gren warned him.

"Yeah, you come knocking on my door and see what happens, asshole. I'll be knocking back, and my knocks _12 gauges_ if you catch my fuckin' drift!"

"THAT'S IT…!" Gren started toward the front entrance of the building.

Seeing this, Bigby instinctively hurried back of the stairs and got between Gren and the doorway.

"Gren…" he said warningly.

"Get out of my fuckin' way!" Gren growled as he tried to move past the former sheriff.

"C'mon Gren, don't be stupid…" Bigby insisted, placing a hand on the latter's shoulder.

"And what are you gonna do stop me, huh!? Like you said, you ain't sheriff anymore."

"I'm trying to keep you out of trouble…"

"Don't bother, it's none of your business!" Gren shouted, his temper flaring as she pushed Bigby out of the way.

Bigby watched him go inside the building. A part of him contemplated going in after him, but he ultimately decided against it. He really had no authority to stop him, and his presence would likely only make things worse. Bigby had a knack for causing situations to escalate. So instead he went back down the steps and into the Trip Trap. The first thing he noticed was that the place was a wreck. One of the billiard tables had been turned on its side, and chairs were scattered everywhere. Moving through all of this, Bigby reached the bar where a tall, brawny, bald man with a long beard was busy cleaning.

"We're closed, come back…" the man began, but he glanced up and saw who it was he paused,

"…oh, hey Bigby."

"Woody." Bigby greeted the Woodsman with a nod.

"Place isn't open yet Bigby, you're gonna have to come back later." Said Woody.

Bigby glanced around at the mess.

"This me?" the wolf inquired.

"No, you didn't come in last night as far as I know. Other folks had some beefs to work out, though."

Woody sighed.

"I don't mind New Years bringing in extra beer sales, but the crowd it brings along with it can be a real pain in the ass. I had to break up three fights last night, and call cabs for at least two dozen people."

As he spoke, the Woodsman opened up a drawer and showed its contents to Bigby. It was piled high with car keys.

"I'll be getting folks over the next few days all coming in to get their cars too. I'm a parking garage."

"You should start wearing one of those valet hats, you might get tips." Bigby suggested.

"Yeah, yeah…" Woody muttered as he shut the drawer before eyeing the case of beer.

"So what's with this? If you're gonna drink here, you gotta buy _our_ alcohol."

"Technically it _is _your alcohol, remember?"

"You know what I mean, Wolf."

"Well, I'm not here to drink…" Bigby explained as he slid the case closer to the Woodsman, "…here, merry Christmas."

"You're a few weeks late."

"Happy New Year then…"

"Bigby, I can't…"

"Just take it!" Bigby persisted, his patience quickly wearing thin.

Woody shot him a patronizing look. However, after another minute of so of thought, he grabbed the case and placed down under the counter.

"So what, you're going cold turkey now?"

"We're not all as lucky as you Wood." Bigby replied, his voice heavy.

"It's not about luck, it's about will. You have the will and you'll find yourself celebrating your 4000th day sober in no time."

"Yeah, well…like I said…we're not all you."

After years of alcohol abuse, Woody had decided to try and stop drinking. From his account that he had given Bigby, it had not been an easy road. However, to his credit, he had managed to stay sober for the past seven years. It was quite an accomplishment.

After a rather uncomfortable silence, Woody gave yet another sigh.

"Alright…I'll bite. How you been holding up Bigby? I know, with Snow and all…" he inquired.

Wrong question! Bigby gave him a venomous look that actually caused the Woody to tense up a little, expecting his former foe to leap right for his throat. So he dropped the subject almost as soon as he had touched it. But it was too late, the damage was done…

Bigby's mind had received the word Snow, and now it was using it to once again run through all the memories, all the feelings…just when he might have finally managed to lock it down, it all came rushing back like a nightmare. Her smile…that look of trust she had always given him…her beautiful face consumed by flames…it all danced before Bigby's mind's eye. The pain was back, starting in the center of his chest and growing. He had to fight it…

Bigby glanced at one of the beer taps.

"_Maybe just one…"_

'BANG'

A loud shot echoed from above. Woody jumped a little and glanced up at the ceiling above him.

"Was that a gunshot?!" he exclaimed.

Bigby remembered the words of the man who Gren had been confronting.

"_My knocks twelve gages…" _

"Oh shit!" Bigby muttered before bolting toward the Trip Trap's front door.

His footsteps and his heavy breathing were all Bigby could hear as he pounded up the steps and through the door of the building. His mind had been wiped clean of all thoughts of Snow; he had only one thing in mind: stopping whatever mess was unfolding between Gren and the Mundy. With that goal before him, Bigby ascended the stairs, skipping two to three steps at a time. The effort was made a little difficult by the confines of his buttoned up trench coat, so he opened the buttons to allow himself better movement. The coat was fully open by the time that Bigby reached the third floor. Gren was lying against the wall a few feet down the hall. Concerned that his fellow Fable may be wounded, the wolf began to approach, but Gren held up a hand.

"Look out, he's armed!" he shouted.

'BANG' no sooner had the words left Gren's mouth, then another shot rang out and pellets tore a platter sized hole in the wood of the door to Gren's left.

Bigby dropped to one knee, his eyes never leaving the door.

"You wanna play fuckers!? C'mon!" the man who Gren had been arguing with earlier shouted.

Making sure to stay as low as possible, Bigby moved over to Gren who was holding a bleeding wound on his right shoulder.

"Guy wasn't kidding was he?" Bigby noted.

"Fuck you." Gren muttered, wincing at a fresh wave of pain.

'BANG' a third gunshot sounded, and another hole appeared in the doorway, and a group of pellets slammed into the wall across the way, leaving a series of holes reminiscent of a connect the dots sheet.

Bigby studied the holes for a moment, and then glanced at the apartment door.

"Someone's probably called the Mundy police by now…we should…"

'BANG'

Bigby's suggestion was interrupted by another round.

"HAHAHAHA! THIS WHAT YOU GET FOR FUCKING WITH ME!" the man's voice was becoming more and more crazed by the minute.

"That asshole gonna eat that shotgun when I get my hands on him." Gren growled as he started to get to his feet.

"No!" Bigby said sharply, "You get downstairs and let Woody take a look at that." He insisted, gesturing toward Gren's wound.

"I'm not goin' anywhere until I have both that jerk off's eyes!"

"Gren, now!" Bigby's voice grew louder and his eyes began to glow yellow.

Gren looked as though he intended to argue further, but that look in Bigby's eye reminded him so much of the time that the former sheriff had nearly ripped his arm off, that he chose to close his mouth and do as told (and that was something, considering that it was Gren). So, while the dark haired Fable slowly stood and made his way down the hall, clutching his shoulder all the way, Bigby positioned himself next to the door. At first his listened intently for any sort of sound, but the man within had fallen strangely silent.

"_Suicide?" _Bigby wondered.

Slowly he reached for the doorknob. His hand closed around the cold metal ball and began to slowly turn it.

'BANG' buckshot obliterated the wood only inches from the knob, causing Bigby to pull his hand back reflexively.

"_Shit, nope he's still kicking." _

Bigby took a deep sniff.

"_Twelve gage shotgun…judging from the concentration of the sulfur, I'd say he's about ten or so feet from the door…twelve gage holds four to five rounds depending on the model…so he's got none left unless he's reloaded, which is likely considering the pause between the fourth and fifth shots…" _Bigby's strategic mind, sharpened by years of hunting the smartest prey in the world, man, went to work planning out a strategy.

"_No other way in except through the front door and he has that covered pretty well…yep…that's the only way…hope he's a shitty shot…" _

With his decision made, Bigby took a deep, steady breath, and then…he acted.

In one quick motion he jumped in front of the door and kicked it so hard that it came off its hinges as though they had been barely attached at all.

'BANG' Bigby's analysis had proven to be correct, the man was standing in the middle of what appeared to be his living room with his gun trained right on the door.

The wolf's keen ears heard the whiz of the pellets as most flew over his shoulder. One or two, however, caught the large collar of his trench coat, tearing away a bit of the fabric. The man pumped the shotgun to get a new round in the chamber, but the Fable's lightning reflexes went to work. Breaking into something of a mixture between a stride and a run, Bigby approached the man and before he could level his gun for another shot, his opponent was upon him. Bigby grabbed a hold of the shotgun and tugged it viciously out of the man's hands. By now the man looked absolutely horrified, and he had good reason. Bigby's survival instinct had kicked in as soon as those pellets had nearly struck him, and his eyes were glowing fiercely. A growl escaped the wolf's throat and he bared his elongated teeth. With tremendous strength, Bigby bent the shotgun until it snapped in half right before the man's eyes. He was stupefied.

"Wha-wha-what the hell are you?!" he cried.

Bigby grabbed the man by the throat, causing him to start gasping for air.

"The wrong guy to fuck with!" Bigby hissed.

"You…you're crazy man…you…ahh…" the man struggled to speak, and tugged desperately at Bigby's tightening hand.

"LET HIM GO!" the shout came from behind him, and Bigby looked back to see a Mundy police officer with her gun drawn and aimed right at him.

It was laughable to think that the bullets from a handgun would have done anything to him, but Bigby's rational side took back over at the sight. This was a Mundy officer, and harming a Mundy was strictly taboo, if not by Fabletown law, then by his own conscience, Bigby was not about to harm her. So he obeyed the command and released his attacker, who fell to the floor (Bigby hadn't even realized that he had been holding him off of the ground) gasping and sputtering.

"Keep your hands where I can see them!" the police woman warned as she approached him.

Bigby raised his hands in the traditional 'I surrender' sign, and as soon as she was close enough the Mundy officer grabbed his hands and placed them behind his back before proceeding to cuff him.

"Crew?!" another voice called from the hall.

"I'm in here!" the officer shouted as she finished binding her suspect.

"_Shit, shit, shit…you've gotten yourself arrested! How are you gonna get out of this one? You think Mary or the Crooked Man's gonna come bail you out. Damn it!" _Bigby mentally chastised himself, but did not resist.

Another officer, a young black fellow, entered with his own gun drawn.

"Suspect is secure, and this guy's gonna probably need some medical attention." The woman explained, gesturing toward the black haired Mundy who was still gasping for air on his hands and knees.

"Alright…" the male officer said as he reached for his radio.

"Apartment is secure. We have two suspects, one in need of an ambulance."

"_Rodger that, Wilkins, over."_ A voice replied.

"Alright, let's get this one downstairs and on his way down town." He suggested, gesturing toward Bigby.

"Right on." The woman agreed as she began to lead Bigby toward the door of the apartment.

As she passed by him, the other officer gave the woman a pat on the shoulder.

"Nice work Madison…" he complimented her.

The woman smiled.

"Hey, it's what I do." She replied.

As the pair left the apartment and headed downstairs Bigby's mind was running furiously through ideas as to how to get out of his predicament.

"_She's fairly small, you could easily overpower her." _A part of him suggested.

"_If you hurt a Mundy cop they'll start a man hunt for you. You'd be a wanted criminal. The best thing to do is to go along with it for now. You can plead self-defense or something…hopefully they still let you do that these days." _The more rational piece of him rebutted.

The officer led him out of the apartment building and once outside, Bigby could see that several police cars with their lights flashing were parked all along the side of the street. Two or three other officers were standing nearby and watched him closely as he was led to one of the cars. The woman opened the back door, and Bigby compliantly got in where upon she shut the door behind him. At first Bigby stared at the grey leather of the seat in front of him, trying his best to think of a way out of his current situation. With no acceptable one coming to him, Bigby glanced out of the window…and his heart stopped.

Woody was standing at the top of the stairs leading down to the Trip Trap watching the whole scene unfold. However, he was not alone. A woman with red hair was standing next to the Woodsman and was also watching Bigby. When she saw that he was looking at her, the woman nodded to him. Bigby knew who she was, though he had never met her, he had seen her photo before….

"_Rose Red…?" _Snow's sister.

The car started and pulled away from curb, heading off down the street. As it did so Bigby continued to stare at Rose until she was out of sight. What had she been doing there? Wasn't she supposed to be in Europe? That was where he had heard she was last. Had she heard about Snow?

All these questions swam within his mind as Bigby was driven off to spend his first day of 2015 in the custody of the NYPD.

"_What shitty start to a New Year…"_

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><p><em>And cue opening credits with <em>Centuries _by Fall Out Boy playing (it inspired the story so I kinda consider it the main theme, lol. Tacky? Maybe...). I guess you can consier this episode one (the previous chapters kinds felt more like a prologue). __Poor Bigby, he won't last ten days in prison...or maybe that's the other inmates, lol. In the meantime, hope you lot enjoyed the chapter, and if not let me know what can be fixed. Criticism helps with growth. Hopefully I'll have chapter 6 up quicker. In the meantime, looking forward to hearing from any of you. Cheers. _

_P.S. anyone catch the grey trench coat reference? _


	6. Episode 1-Start Here, Part 2

_Right, let's do our shout outs shall we? _

_ReadALLTheBooks- Sure, I mean what's a few injured cops between friends right? Besides, massive statewide man hunts are overrated, lol. And yes, Road Runner is mean. I always rooted for the coyote. Same thing goes for Tom in Tom and Jerry. Thanks for the review :). _

_FineChyna- Lol, actually you guessed it. The trench coat is a reference to how Bigby looks in Fables. I tried to base the image of the new him off his comic book persona, with a few additions of my own, namely the beard. The beard has its own purpose, however. It's supposed to show that he is in a state of mourning (as is done in some cultures where the males grow a beard and do not shave until their mourning period is over), in this case of course, for Snow. I was actually gonna say "well, unless your Madison's last name is Crew..." lol. However, yes, I did mean it as a small cameo for her, and yes she is married. However, I do not intend for her to become a regular. I would not presume to co-opt your character. That's just rude. Anyways, thanks for the review :). _

_snazzyolive531- I'm sorry you feel that way :(. Hopefully this chapter will give something to tide you over until the big stuff hits. I have received criticism in the past that my stories are too slow, and I am doing my best to work on that. Thanks for the review and the constructive criticism :)._

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

Catch and Release

"_Christ I'm so glad that I didn't ever have to do any of this crap!" _Bigby thought irritably as the police processed him through.

It was not the most exciting thing. First they had searched him thoroughly, confiscating his trench coat in the process. Then, they took his photograph while he held up some sign with some numbers on it. When this, what the Mundy officers had always called a 'mug shot' was done, they moved on to the fingerprinting. While Bigby had always had some of his own paperwork and what not to do whenever he brought in suspects, it never was something this extensive. After the photo and the fingerprinting, moved Bigby to a cell where he now stood leaning against the door, his up and his hands hanging limply through the bars. He was as angry as any caged animal would be. More than once he considered just ripping the cell door open and leaving, but he knew that doing so would likely require him to shift to a more…bestial form… and that would call more attention to himself then he would prefer, and worse still, might even risk exposing Fabletown. No, he had to keep his cool as hard as that was proving to be. As the hours ticked by, he paced back and forth in the cell, his patience wearing ever thinner. Why did the damn Mundy police have to show up so quickly? Hell, he had practically done their job for them, and now here he was in their custody, like some criminal.

"_To them you are just a criminal. You should have known better, you should have left with Gren and left the issue to the Mundies. The man wasn't a Fable, he was a Mundy. It was a Mundy problem, not yours…" _his reason chastised him more and more the longer Bigby waited.

At last, in an effort to vent his frustration, Bigby let out a roar and punched his fist into the concrete wall of the cell. The blow actually left a good sized dent surrounded by zigzagging cracks running in all directions, as confused and conflicted as Bigby's mind. The wolf gave a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall with his back to the damage he had done.

What would Snow think of him, imprisoned like this?

"_You can't keep doing this…beating yourself over and over again with her memory. It is pointless…she's gone…her opinion does not matter, does it?" _

Yes, it did. It had to…it was all he had left of her.

"Hey!"

Bigby had been so engrossed in his thoughts that even his enhanced hearing had failed to register the footsteps of the police officer, and the wolf only noticed him when he called out.

"Back away from the door." The officer commanded, and Bigby obeyed.

The officer entered and placed a pair of handcuffs on the prisoner before leading him out of the cell and down the hall. The pair exited the cell block and soon reached a small interrogation room where Bigby was left alone and handcuffed to the table.

"_I guess they aren't taking any chances with me." _Bigby thought as he tugged slightly at his cuffs. He could have broken them as easily as a toothpick, but chose not to. After all, it would have accomplished nothing.

Thus it was back to the waiting game, although this time, thankfully, he did not have to wait as long. The door to the interrogation room opened, and a man who looked to be in his early fifties entered. He was not wearing the clothes of a police officer, leading Bigby to deduce that the man was a detective. This hunch was soon confirmed when, upon sitting down in the chair across the small metal table from Bigby, the man introduced himself.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wolf, my name is Detective Seward." He explained as he took out several papers from a yellow file folder.

Bigby did not respond, but only stared back at the detective with an icy gaze. After seeing that he would not be getting nay reply, Seward glanced over one of the sheets before looking back up at his suspect.

"Do you wanna explain to me why I can't find you in any of your records. I spent hours trying to…"

"I'm no criminal…" Bigby's voice, as cool and collected as he could manage it, interrupted the detective.

"No, I don't just mean in our criminal records. I mean, I can't find any record of you anywhere..." the man explained as he flipped through the file.

"…no birth certificate, no driver's license, not even a Social Security number. You wanna explain that?"

Yet again, Bigby chose silence, and only stared at the detective with a look that displayed his resolution not to cooperate. Seward sighed.

"Look, I don't want this to drag out any more than you do, so the sooner you answer my questions, the sooner we can get this over with. What were you doing at the apartment?"

"Stopping a criminal."

"And you just decided that that was your job and not the police's?"

"I didn't see any around." Bigby retorted, his tone carrying a bit of reproach.

"So why didn't you call them then?"

"The guy was firing off shotgun rounds; I thought he might hurt someone."

"So why is it that Officer Crew states that she found you choking an unarmed man?"

"There was a gun…"

"You mean this gun?" the detective pulled out a photo from his file folder. It was a picture of the shotgun Bigby had snapped in half.

"Yeah." Bigby confirmed with a nod.

"And I suppose you aspect me to believe that you did this." Seward said skeptically, waving the picture a little for emphasis.

Bigby leaned back in his chair with his arms folded and said nothing.

Detective Seward eyed him suspiciously.

"Look, I've known a few guys who are a lot bulkier than you, and they couldn't tear a shotgun in _half_." He voiced his doubts, and crossed his arms as well.

However, his suspect continued to exercise his right to remain silent, and did not answer.

"What were you doing in the apartment?" the detective reiterated his original inquiry.

"I told you, stopping a maniac." Bigby replied at last, repeating his previous explanation.

"Ok, let's start from the beginning…." Seward rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"…where were you prior to the incident?"

"The Trip Trap Bar."

"And why did you come up to the apartment?"

Bigby's eyes narrowed. Where was the detective going with this?

"I heard gunshots, so I went up to investigate."

"Really?"

"Yes!" Bigby's own patience was gone, and he snapped back irritably.

Detective Seward considered him for a second before nodding slowly and reaching into the file once again.

"Well…" he said slowly, as he slid the paper across the table toward Bigby,

"…we have testimony from the neighbors, and they say that someone came upstairs and starting yelling for the apartment's occupant to turn down his music, all the while pounding on the door."

As the detective spoke, Bigby refused to meet his eye. The wolf's mind was racing to try and figure out an explanation without bringing Gren into. If the police saw that Gren had been wounded, it would lead to more questions, and Bigby feared that Gren would not be as cool in custody as he was.

"So you wanna what _really_ happened? Did you have one too many and go up there to pick a fight?"

Bigby was mum.

"Because I'll tell you what I think happened. I think you and our man here got into a disagreement and he tried to defend himself. It looks like he started to lose though, until Officer Crew arrived and broke up the party. Am I getting close?" the detective continued, his steady, confidant gaze never leaving Bigby's face.

Then, to the detectives shock, Bigby grinned.

The man's thesis had been so far from the truth that Bigby had actually found it humorous.

"Something funny?" the detective demanded.

Before Bigby could give an answer, however, the door to the interrogation room burst open. Both men looked over at the woman who now stood in the door, and Bigby's eyes widened the moment he recognized her.

It was Bloody Mary with Bigby's trench coat slung over her shoulder.

"Who the hell are…?" Detective Seward spoke first, clearly incredulous about this sudden interruption.

"I'm his lawyer and he's free to go." Said Mary, gesturing toward Bigby.

Bigby, for his part, was still surprise by Mary's sudden arrival. However, he managed to break the spell of shock and speak up.

"What are you…?"

"As your lawyer, I advise you to shut the fuck up!" Mary shouted, giving Bigby a look so venomous that he actually did just that.

"You can't just come in here and…" while Bigby may have gone silent, the detective did not. He stood up and got face-to-face with Mary.

"I can and I will." Mary replied coldly, never breaking eye contact with Seward.

"On whose authority?"

"On your chief's, you got a problem, bitch to him!" Mary said before looking over at Bigby.

"Come on, let's go!" she commanded, shoving his coat roughly into his hands.

As much as it stuck in his craw to follow orders from Bloody Mary, Bigby stood up and followed her out of the interrogation room while a dumbstruck Seward looked on. For the most part the pair of Fables walked in silence as Mary led the way out of the station and Bigby put his coat back on. As they passed through the main lobby, Bigby recognized the officer who had arrested him, the one they had identified as Madison Crew, who also noticed Bigby and watched him leave with a look of shock and confusion. Bigby continued to watch her, and as he neared the doors to the station he saw Seward appear, at which point Officer Crew approached him and they began to converse heatedly. Clearly she was no happier about Bigby leaving then the detective was, but it looked as though there was nothing they could do about it.

Once they were outside, Mary broke her silence.

"You'll get in the car and go with them to Whitehall, I'll meet you there." She barked, gesturing toward a waiting vehicle with two short, round shaped men waiting next to it. Bigby reconzied them too.

"_Oh great, not these two…" _Bigby thought as the Tweedle brothers, Dum and Dee, smiled at him.

"'Ello Bigby, you're looking much better than the last time we saw you." Said Dee.

Bigby turned to look back at Bloody Mary, but she was no longer in sight. He then focused back on the Tweedles, and Dee opened up one of the car doors and gestured for Bigby to get in.

"C'mon now, wouldn't want to disobey the Sheriff, or her deputies now would you?" the Tweedle said with a grin. He was enjoying this.

If there was anyone else that Bigby did not want to see, aside from Bloody Mary, it was the Tweedles. Something in those smiles they were giving him caused the idea of doing what they told him to do to make Bigby sick to his stomach. It felt like surrendering. Frankly, he would much rather face the Mundy police. However, upon reflection and realizing that his situation now was better than the one he had been in (if not by much) Bigby decided to go along and got into the car.

"That's a good boy." Dee said mockingly as he closed the door.

Bigby grimaced at the insult, but said nothing. Dee and Dum got into the front seat, and before long they were driving down the avenue.

"So Bigby, 'ow 'ave you been? I couldn't believe it when they said you were back. 'Ell, I felt certain you had bought if after Mary put that silver slug up your arse." Dee continued his taunting as they went.

Bigby refused to give the Tweedles the satisfaction of reacting to their calumny, so he just firmly focused on ignoring the both of them.

"Oh c'mon now Bigby, we 'aven't gotten a chance to catch up since you've been back. Not even for old time's sake?"

The wolf could take it no more.

"Fuck you." He growled.

"Oh hohohoho, listen to 'im…as angry and impolite as ever. No wonder 'e got 'imself arrested." Dum noted with a chuckle.

"_Goddamn sons-a-bitches, I'd just love to…"_ Bigby was picturing all the horrible things he'd love to do to the Tweedles at the moment, when the car suddenly came to stop.

"Well, 'ere we are, out with you. The Crooked Man's waitin'." Dee announced.

Bigby got out of the car, happy to get away from the two brothers. There were indeed in front of Whitehall Plaza, and Bigby headed inside. This time Tim only nodded to him front the desk, and Bigby returned it politely as he passed by before getting into the elevator and taking it to the top floor. He walked the same route that he had those six months ago into the Crooked Man's office.

Inside, the great man was seated at his desk, and looked up upon Bigby's entry.

"Ahhhh, Mr. Wolf, I see Sheriff Mary was able to retrieve you from the New York Police." He noted, standing up and walking down from the top of his pedestal.

Bigby was seized with instant feelings of burning hatred upon seeing that crooked face…the face of the man who had taken Snow from him.

"Why the hell did you spring me loose?!" Bigby demanded, his voice betraying his anger.

The Crooked Man actually looked a little hurt.

"It is my duty as Mayor to watch after all Fables, even those that may not have the highest opinion of me. My associates tell me you have been having some trouble adapting since your awakening. I understand you suffered from a drinking problem for a while."

"Who the hell told you…"

"I have eyes everywhere in this city, Mr. Wolf. You'd do well to remember that. It is the same reason I was able to come to your aid when the Mundy police arrested you. I do appreciate your not bringing Mr. Grendle into it, by the way. He's had enough trouble already with the police. But that leaves you, Mr. Wolf…" as he spoke the Crooked Man walked past Bigby and toward the painting of Snow White that hung on his wall.

"…you've been having problems coping, it seems. My offer of employment still stands if…"

"Go to hell." Bigby said instantly, before the Crooked Man could even finish speaking.

The mayor turned and glared at Bigby, and the wolf thought that, for the first time, he could detect some anger in those eyes.

"If you are going to insist on carrying on by yourself, I would advise you to be careful." The Crooked Man said coolly, his hands behind his back as he slowly walked back over toward the Big Bad Wolf.

"I only have one 'get out of jail free' card to give you. I suggest that you take charge of your life before it runs away with you."

Bigby nodded slowly with a disgusted look on his face.

"Yeah…that's rich…you're the one giving out the cards when you should be the one behind bars…or better yet at the bottom of the Witching Well!" he said angrily.

The Crooked Man did not say anything at first, but only regarded Bigby closely before continuing.

"I have an entire community to think about, and one Fable's reckless actions could expose all of us. _That_ I will not have. So consider this a warning, Mr. Wolf….straighten up and fly right."

"_Your _version of right, you mean."

Once more a flash of anger appeared in the Crooked Man's face, but he managed to play it off.

"That will be all, Mr. Wolf. Good day." He said before turning and heading back up the steps to his desk.

Bigby watched him ascend, and for a brief moment he considered jumping the wicked bastard and ripping his throat out, but once again his mind held him back. Crooked Man's time would come, but not right now. So the wolf turned and headed for the office doors. His hand had reached the knob when the mayor's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Mr. Wolf…"

Bigby paused, but did not turn to look at his nemesis. He refused to.

"…Sheriff Mary informs me that, despite her request, you have not come to her office to be registered. I would ask that you do so before leaving the premises."

Bigby did not reply, nor even given any sort of sign he had heard the Crooked Man, but instead left the office and headed back down the elevator. He had no intention of going to Mary's office, and pushed the button for the lobby. However, the elevator got down to the third floor when it stopped suddenly. The door slid open and none other than Bloody Mary herself was waiting.

"C'mon Wolf, into the office." She said wryly, gesturing for him to leave the elevator.

Bigby, for his part, decided not to fight her on it and, figuring that the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could leave this wretched place, he followed Mary back to her office. It was marked by large black letters on the door which read: "Security: Mary T."

The inside of the office reminded him a lot of his own, with a large desk and filing cabinet being the main pieces of furniture within. Unlike his own previous, however, there was no window, but every wall had at least one mirror on it, some even had two or three.

"Sit!" Mary commanded him as she took her own seat behind the desk.

Bigby sat down in the chair opposite her and watched as Mary reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a piece of paper which she began to scribble on.

"_Gotta say, office work doesn't really seem to suit her." _ Bigby thought as he watched her fill out the paperwork, her face showing more and more the annoyance she was feeling.

"So let's see…name: Bigby Wolf, occupation: none, residence: some shit hole apartment on the upper east side, prospects: none…" Mary spoke aloud as she wrote on the sheet until she paused and looked up at him.

"You're what I call a waste of space. If I had had my way, you'd be rotting in a cell with the Mundies right now." She spat at him.

It strange to see her angry…in all the short time that they had been acquainted, Bigby had never seen Mary truly angry. She's always seemed to be in some sort of state of sick enjoyment or even downright pleasure at the pain she cause others. Now, however, there was real anger in her eyes. She was not happy with the situation at all.

"So why aren't I?" Bigby retorted.

"The Crooked Man thinks you can be useful, but I know better…you're too hung up on that bitch Snow White to try and…"

"RAAAAAGH" Bigby, not about to take Snow's name being slighted, jumped to his feet, bearing his teeth which were beginning to elongate as his eyes glowed bright yellow.

Mary was impressed by how much of an effect the single name could have on him, and her familiar grin returned.

"Do it, c'mon…give me an excuse to do what I want." She whispered, standing up so her face was only inches from Bigby's.

He was tempted…he was so tempted to just claw those amber eyes right out of their sockets…to silence her for good…to make her pay for what she had done to him all those years ago. However, he could see that, deep within her, Mary wanted nothing more than just that, an excuse to arrest him. So, after a few more tense moments of staring each other down, Bigby finally broke the stalemate by sitting back down. Mary's grin only widened.

"Look at you…so broken and pathetic….you used to be something. Now…now you're just a legend…a scary story told to kids at night to put them to sleep…"

As she spoke, Mary leaned down closer to Bigby from across the desk, her grin evolving into a patronizing lip curl.

"Me…I'm real…they know I am…all I have to do is walk into a room and I can practically _taste_ their fear. Your day's done."

As he heard this, something occurred to Bigby, and he looked up at Mary defiantly.

"Then why do wanna get rid of me so bad?" he inquired.

Mary's grin was replaced by a scowl.

"We're done here, now get the fuck out." She hissed, returning to her seat.

Bigby got up and exited the office, smiling slightly as he shut the office door. That little moment had almost made it all worth it.

* * *

><p>Bigby's footfalls upon the stairs leading up to his apartment were heavy. He had had a long day, and it was getting into the evening by the time he had finally made his way home. The day's events had left him feeling exhausted, and on top of that, he hadn't had a cigarette for nearly the whole damn thing, and so the stench of the city had overwhelmed his nostrils for hours now. As soon as he reached his door and entered, Bigby headed straight for the freezer where he kept a box of L&amp;Ms (he had learned long ago that storing his cigarette's this way preserved their flavor better) and he soon lit up before sitting down at the kitchen table with a sigh. For a while he did nothing but sit and smoke, all the while reflecting on the events of his first day in 2015. It had certainly been eventful.<p>

What puzzled him most, he found, was how Crooked Man had managed to get him released. Well, however he had done it, Bigby hoped it had been full proof. He didn't relish the idea of the Mundy police showing up at his door to arrest him again. As he was thinking, Bigby's eyes wandered over to something white on the floor right in front of his apartment door. With his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, Bigby stood up and retrieved the object, which was revealed to be a small envelope. Someone had evidently slid it under his door. Sitting back down at the table, Bigby opened it, and found only a small, short note written on a plain white sheet of paper. The note read:

_Dear Mr. Wolf,_

_If you really want to do some good, start here: 1943, W. 82__nd__ Street, apartment 429._

The mysterious message was not signed, and Bigby read if over twice, shaking his head. Who was this all about? It seemed very strange to him, and the fact that there was no signature made him all the more uneasy. What if it was some sort of trap? It was times like these that Bigby wished he had someone to talk to…to compare notes with. He became distinctly aware of his aloneness, sitting in his apartment, smoking, and feeling as confused as he had in the jail cell. He wished he could have some company, hell he would have even settled for Collin, the smart ass pig sitting in his chair and chastising him.

"_Life is easier with friends Bigby, and we live a long fucking time."_ Collin's words all those years ago came back to him.

Bigby sighed, releasing a large plume of smoke from his lips as he did so before reading over the letter a third time. Why on earth was he even considering doing this?

"_For the same reason you helped Gren. It takes your mind off things…it gives you a purpose, so far as you have one." _That voice within him announced the arrival of the epiphany.

That was the reason, wasn't it? Bigby had spent a good chunk of his lifespan hunting and murdering to try and slake a lust for vengeance that had turned out to bottomless. His move to Fabletown and becoming sheriff had given him new purpose. Now, with that gone, he had slid into uselessness and drunkenness. Bigby remembered how, back in the Trip Trap, helping Gren out of his predicament had rescued him from the painful memories and grief over Snow that had begun to invade him yet again. It had been a much better alternative to drink. This was it, another chance to finally find some purpose other than just survival…a chance to finally do something other than just wallow in his grief.

So, after taking one last drag, Bigby extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray on the kitchen table and pocketed the letter before leaving his apartment for the second time that long day. He was soon down on the street and hailing a cab which took him to his destination. This turned out to be a simple, brownstone apartment building, about four stories high. Bigby entered the building which was not in the best of shape with chunks of plaster missing from the ceiling, and portions of the white wall stained yellow with age. The wolf made his way upstairs to the fourth floor and made his way down the long, green carpeted hallway until he reached a scratched and scuffed up door with the numbers 429 on it. Bigby hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. He waited for several minutes, but no one answered the door. Bigby tried again, pounding even harder on the door, but still no answer. After glancing around to make sure he was alone, Bigby grasped the doorknob and twisted it. To his surprise, the door was unlocked and opened obediently for him.

The apartment was filled with the reddish orange light of the setting sun outside (Bigby had forgotten how early the sun set in the winter) and rays of light highlighted floating particles of dust and other airborne debris. The moment he walked inside, a familiar smell reached his nostrils. It was the smell of death and decay, one he was all to intimate with. Slowly, Bigby made his way down the entry hall, past a small kitchen, and into a large room that was doubtlessly the living room. The source of the smell was located here. A man with dark black hair, skinny as a rake, and half-decomposed was seated in an easy chair in the center of the room. Bigby, after giving the living room a brief glance over, approached the body. It reminded him eerily of when he and Snow had gone to Prince Lawrence's apartment, but this man was not Lawrence. Bigby did not recognize him, and he suspected that the man was a Mundy.

"_Why would someone send me to a dead Mundy's home?"_ he wondered

As he kneeled down to look over the body, Bigby's detective senses took over. He took a deep sniff.

"_Strong scent of decomposition…I'd say he's been dead at least a week…maybe more…" _

Bigby noticed a hypodermic needle was clutched in the man's stiff right hand and there was track of puncture holes all the way up the man's left arm.

"_He was using drugs…heroin probably…most likely an overdose. But why would someone want me to find him?"_

The former sheriff's eyes meandered over to a small table next to the chair where he noticed a tiny plastic tube. Upon picking it up, he realized it was a vial of some sort, and that there was just a small amount of some sort of light, almost lime, green liquid in the bottom.

"_What the..." _Bigby's eyes narrowed as he inspected the liquid.

If this was the drug the Mundy had been using, it wasn't like anything Bigby had ever seen before.

'CRASH' a loud noise from down a nearby hall caused Bigby's eyes to shoot back up and he was back on his feet in an instant. Moving quickly, but carefully, Bigby made his way down the hall, which was lined with two or three doors. Another small thump came from the door at the very end of the hall, and with his back pressed against the wall, Bigby slowly approached the door. As soon as he was close enough, Bigby pressed an ear to the wood, listening intently.

Inside he could hear more thumping and a man's voice muttering:

"Shit…where is it…aw bloody hell, he's gonna kill me if I don't find it…"

After waiting another minute, Bigby reached over, grasped the door's brass knob and slowly turned it. Then, in a swift motion, he flung the door open and jumped inside.

"AAAAH!" a man with dark brown, oily hair and dressed in a pair of baggy blue jeans and a matching blue blazer jumped with surprise.

Bigby, upon examining the man, recognized his sharp, beady little eyes.

"Hello, Dawkins…" he greeted his fellow Fable, Jack Dawkins.

"Bigby…Bigby Wolf? Jesus, Joseph, and Mary I thought you was dead!" Jack exclaimed.

"What are doing here?" Bigby demanded.

Jack, seemingly ignoring the question, went back to rifling around in the large wooden dresser he was currently digging through inside what, based on the bed, had been the Mundy's bedroom.

"I'd heard rumors you were back, but I must admit I didn't really believe 'em." He said.

"Jack…"

"Aha!" Dawkins let out a cry of triumph and pulled out a package about the size of a loaf of bread wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

"What's that?" Bigby demanded, but Jack just kept on ignoring him.

"Right, nice seeing you again mate, but I gotta run." Jack said as he attempted to walk past Bigby.

The latter reached out and grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to halt.

"What's in the package, Jack?" Bigby reiterated, his voice growing deeper.

"Oh…you know… just something that belongs to the boss. He wants it back." Jack explained in an oddly nonchalant tone.

"And that would be?"

"Sorry mate, that's confidential. You understand…"

"Give me the package."

"Oooh, sorry, can't do that." Jack pulled himself free of Bigby's grip and began to inch toward the bedroom door.

Bigby turned in place, following Jack's movements.

"Jaaaaack…"

"Sorry Bigby, but I gotta go." Jack said quickly the moment he had reached the bedroom doorway.

In that instant, Bigby lunged at Jack. However, the spritely fellow stepped out into the hall and too the side, causing Bigby to slam shoulder first into the wall with a grunt, leaving a large hole. Jack grinned, pleased with his successful dodge.

"That's why they call me the Artful Dodge, mate." He said, and with that he took off down the hall toward the apartment's front door.

Bigby, after recovering, sprinted after his target. The two Fables exited the apartment with Jack making a right turn and heading toward the stairs. Bigby was hot on his heels, giving small growls as he pursued his prey.

"JACK!" he shouted.

The Artful Dodger, to Bigby's surprise, did not go down the stairs however, but up. At the top of the stairwell was a single door, which Dodger forced his way through, and Bigby followed. They found themselves on top of the roof, with the snow crunching under their footfalls. The sun could be seen setting on the horizon, and a blanket of dark clouds had begun to move over the city, bringing with them a light snow that was now falling. Jack sprinted until he reached the far edge of the building where he glanced around desperately.

"C'mon, where the bloody hell is he…" the Dodger muttered before turning to face the wolf, who was now standing a few feet away, huffing and puffing and trying to catch his breath.

"Alright Jack…" Bigby gasped between breaths, "…give…me…the package!"

Jack continued to back up until his legs hit the edge of the stone escarpment surrounding the rooftop.

"I can't do that, Bigby. They'd kill me."

"Who?"

Jack did not answer.

"What's in the package? What does that have to do with that dead Mundy in there!?" Bigby's voice grew louder, angrier. He wanted answers, and he'd get them one way or another.

"Bigby…c'mon…gimmie a break…I…" Jack was stuttering as the wolf approached him and grabbed him by his blazer's collar.

"I'm not gonna say this again, Dodger…give…me…the PACKAGE!" Bigby growled menacingly, pulling Jack away from the escarpment to ensure he did not try anything foolish.

"No…wait…just…"

While Jack was trying to string a sentence together, Bigby's attention was suddenly captured by a flash of light from a window across the street. It was brief, but bright and happened two or three more times, as if the light from the setting sun was reflecting off a mirror or a…a...

"_A scope…"_

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind, when a shot rang out. Bigby grunted as a bullet slammed right into his left shoulder. The shooter had had a perfect shot, since Jack was so much shorter than Bigby, and though it did not hurt as bad as Mary's silver bullet, the force of the round caused Bigby to release Jack and stumbled backward. The back of his legs hit the escarpment, and his sheer momentum sent Bigby plummeting over the edge. At that moment, time seemed to slow, so much so that Bigby could see the individual snowflakes as they passed him by. Glancing upward, Bigby could see Jack's face as he leaned over the escarpment, watching Bigby's plummet. Then, the wolf glanced downward at the snow covered street below. A single car was parked below, and as he fell toward it, Bigby was briefly filled with a sense of déjà vu from when he and the Woodsman had fallen out of Toad's window and onto his car. In the next instant, time sped back up and Bigby fell right into the roof of the vehicle with a resounding 'crash'.

Then, all went black.

* * *

><p><em>Oh no, someone's insurance premiums just went through the roof (literally) lol. For those of you who do not know who Jack "Artful Dodger" Dawkins is, Google<em> Oliver Twist _by Charles Dickens. In the meantime, please review and let me know how I am doing. I love hearing from all of you. Cheers. _


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